#I did this in one sitting my finger is so cramped

[wodania]

stole this and drew it with asoiaf characters

#I did this in one sitting my finger is so cramped #in order: #sansa stark #jon snow #duncan the tall #tyrion lannister #jon connington #loras tyrell #sandor clegane #aegon v targaryen #petyr baelish #varys #asoiaf #my art #a song of ice and fire #valyrianscrolls #digital art #shitpost

[he-calls-me-kitten]

Dirty Dozen (ft. +2)

GN! MC x Pervert! OM Characters

(Cause y'all seemed to love the first one omg. Also TW: I made everyone wayy more sleazy and nasty than before so read at your own risk. MInors DNI)

Pervert! Mammon who likes to ask you for something specifically when your hands are full. "MC, lend me a few Grimm could ya?" He asks when you're in the middle of cooking.

"My hands are covered in cake batter, just take some from my back pocket."

"Are you sure it's there? Let me check both pockets." He isn't so much searching for coins as much as he's feeling and practically groping your ass. Seriously you start to wonder how it's taking him 20 minutes to find something that's right there.

Pervert! Solomon who keeps his room colder than usual when you come over for magic lessons.

"Is it too cold for you MC? I apologise, I kept it this way because some of the potions have bad reactions to heat but if you'd like-"

"I'm absolutely fine, Solomon. You worry about me too much." You smile at him reassuringly, not noticing how his eyes are so eagerly trained at your nipples perking up through your thin t-shirt.

Boner Bonus points if you allow him to hug you for some warmth. His fingers will definitely brush against your chest more than once.

Pervert! Beel who seems to make a mess whenever he's trying to help you in the kitchen. "I'm so sorry, MC. I didn't mean to spill it on your hands!"

"It's okay Beel, it's just some cream and syrup. I can just wash it off right away."

"But it's such a waste. Please allow me." He starts to thoroughly lick your fingers and you shake your head and let him knowing his fixations on food.

But he can't help it - you taste so good. He secretly wonders what you might taste like down there, drooling at the thought.

Pervert! Levi who has taken to sitting on pillows Japanese style while gaming and offers you the same. Sure enough you don't even suspect an ulterior motive.

"Did you get inspired by some human world anime again? Careful though - your legs and butt will start to cramp after a while."

"MC you're too gracious! Caring so much for an otaku like me!"

After you leave, he promptly takes the pillow you were sitting on and puts it in his bathtub. He's going to sleep on it ofc. Your scent on it helps him jerk off better.

Pervert! Belphie who now asks you to rub his belly till he falls asleep. "What's so funny?" He asks as you giggle at his request.

"Since when do you need help falling asleep?"

"I care about the quality of my sleep. And I sleep better this way."

Fortunately you believe him and don't suspect that it's because it's the closest he can get you to fondling his dick. He has such a difficult time holding in his moans and hard ons, every time your hands go even a bit lower than usual.

Pervert! Barbatos who got into sewing clothes as a hobby and specifically likes making them for you now. But you never understand why he needs to take same measurements over and over again.

"Oh? This is a different kind of design, MC. So the measurements will vary from before."

"Always making new things aren't you? You never fail to suprise Barbatos." You smile at him admiring.

The tightening of the tape around your chest and crotch are subtle. He can hardly keep it together when you praise him after all. But he has to if he wants to skim his hands over your body like this again.

Pervert! Diavolo who takes you on such long drives that you always doze off in the front seat, waking up apologetic for missing so much of the journey.

"Hahaha, it's okay, MC. We've been on this same road lots of times. I assure you, you didn't miss anything. And I like that you feel safe to sleep in my presence."

"But still, I'm so sorry, it feels disrespectful..." You apologize, not even knowing how hard he is in his pants right now.

Afterall, he can keep squeezing your beautiful thighs, maybe let his hands wander between them and imagine himself fucking you in the back seat as much as he wants, when you're asleep.

Pervert! Simeon who will have noone except you as his muse for art classes. And the themes just keep getting more erotic each time.

"Are you sure you're okay with this, MC? You don't have to do it if you're not comfortable-"

"Nonsense, Simeon. I feel super comfortable if it's you. You're a true artist after all." You say as you lay on his bed wrapped up only in bedsheets, exposing your entire back and legs.

If only you knew, this angel has thoughts dirtier than most demons. How he's practically fucking you with his eyes. How he's definitely going to jerk off into those bedsheets, moaning your name.

Pervert! Satan who loves teaching you things - standing right behind you, guiding your hands to make latte-art, or trying a new style of painting.

"That's it, nice and slow. Look how much you've improved, MC." He beams at the cute kitty in the coffee cup.

"All thanks to you, Satan. I can't wait to learn more from you." You smile at him earnestly.

He almost feels guilty for tricking you this way, but the way your hands feel in his, and your ass feels against his groin is so addicting. One of these days, he wishes could teach you to be on all fours and take his length in your pretty little mouth.

Pervert! Asmo who loves keeping your eyes on him and noone else. From elaborate performances to petty staring contests, he cannot have enough of your gaze.

"Oh you're turning red in the face, Asmo. Did I manage to flutter the heart of the Avatar of Lust?" You lean forward smiling.

"You're my only weakness after all, MC. It's your fault for making me this way." He almost moans.

You laugh and mock apologize at his antics but you don't know he's been grinding like an animal on his seat, and creamed his pants under your innocent gaze. Your undivided attention just turns him on so much.

Pervert! Lucifer who makes his desires too obvious sometimes. He'll regret it in the morning and take you to dinner to apologize but not until he's already done something dirty.

"Lucifer, it's 2 am. You need to throw away that coffee and sleep." You're practically dragging him to bed.

"Fine. I'll go sleep if you'll stay in my room tonight." He says knowing you'll comply. You care too much for your own good. He's not even going to let you sleep on the couch, no you have to stay wrapped up in his arms.

You might wake upto him groaning your name in his sleep and you might mistake it for a nightmare - not knowing how he's balls deep inside you in his dreams.

Pervert! Thirteen who likes how excited you get over her newest inventions and keeps making more things to call you over.

"And this little baby and can throw pie at people's faces without ever missing. Guaranteed headshot." She smiles proud.

"This would be so useful in a cafeteria food fight and then get banned right after its glory. But I so wanna use it!" You whine.

She loves how much you appreciate her inventions. She is secretly working on a 'pleasure' device scented like her to give you - she hopes you'll like it just as much.

Pervert! Mephisto who is actually taken aback by your duality. You're such a mischievous little imp usually but turn so well-mannered in front of Diavolo's esteemed guests.

"So even you can be prim and proper sometimes? If only you could maintain this on the daily." He huffs.

You laugh and mock-bow in front of him. "Of course, anything for you my dearest lord. Would you like to dance with this proper human while you can?"

He blushes at the sudden offer. Why you little- how dare you tempt him like this. You can't complain about him gripping you somewhere improper or too tight. You deserve this for your attitude.

Pervert! Raphael who is still navigating new feelings of lust he's never felt before he met you. Why his heart skips every time you fall asleep on his shoulder or why he felt a sudden warmth at the pit of his stomach feeling you breath so softly into his neck.

"Thank you for helping me tidy the classroom, MC. I didn't even know where the cleaning supplies were."

"That's alright. It's more fun with two people anyway and wait Raphael there's a bucket over the-" The fresh bucket of water already spilled splashing all over both of you.

You immediately fetched a towel to help him dry up but he couldn't stop staring at you instead. With the uniform sticking to your body like and the water glistening on your exposed skin - why was he so enthralled? Why does he feel a strange pulsing between his legs as you hover over him?

#obey me #obey me smut #obey me solomon #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me lucifer #obey me beel #obey me mammon #obey me simeon #obey me belphie #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo #obey me leviathan #obey me thirteen #obey me Raphael #obey me mephisto

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Family Of Four

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: none

Being a young mother of two small children, one of whom is 3 months and the other 4 years old, is something no one could have prepared you for. You knew from the beginning that it wasn't going to be easy since Lando couldn't always be there to help you with the two of them, but sometimes you thought you were gonna lose your mind.

Phoebe was 4 years old, the spitting image of her dad. She was a little lady with big brown curls and sassy attitude who always stole everyone's hearts with her personality. On the other hand, Kian was only 3 months old, usually a very calm little baby boy who was a perfect mix of both you and Lando.

This was one of those days when you wanted to jump out of your own skin. One of those days when you didn't know what to do first, who to take first, who to comfort first. Both kids were screaming crying, Phoebe because she was hungry, even though she refused to eat 20 minutes before when you asked her, and Kian because he had stomach cramps that were very painful.

While Phoebe was throwing a tantrum and rolling on the floor screaming, Kian was crying so hard that you almost cried too because you didn't know how to help him anymore. You were going crazy while waiting for Lando to come back from work duties.

Days like this didn't happen often, but when they did, you felt like you were failing as a mother. Deep down you knew it wasn't true, but you just couldn't understand how a pregnant Nara Smith manages to literally produce cereal for her children's breakfast, yet here you are, not even able to calm your two children by yourself.

"It's okay, it's okay baby boy, please stop crying" You despaired, talking softly, rubbing Kian's back and walking around the living room with him. "Phoebe, get up from the floor right now!"

"I'm hungry!"

"Can you just wait 5 more minutes until your brother stops crying? Can you please do that for me?"

"No, I want daddy!" She yelled which startled Kian and made him cry even more.

"Oh my God.." You were on the verge of a breakdown. "Shh, baby, it's okay..shh"

Thankfully, minutes after she screamed for her dad, Lando walked through the front door.

"Guys, what is going on here?" He asked taking off his jacket looking at the chaotic scene in front of him.

"Please, do something" Your voice trembled, the tears already formed in your eyes threatening to spill out.

"Baby, what's going on? Are you okay?" He approached you putting one hand on your cheek and the other on Kian's back.

"No" You shook your head. "I'm going to the bedroom to try to calm him down. Phoebe's hungry because she didn't wanna eat 20 minutes ago when I begged her to. Now she's screaming for no reason."

"I'll deal with her, don't worry, okay?" He said kissing your cheek before you left with Kian in your arms.

"Pheebs, get up, c'mon" Lando said gently pulling her up by her arm.

"Daddy" She cried with no tears.

"What's wrong? Why are you crying?" He asked lifting her up in his arms and brushing her hair from her sweat-sticky face.

"I'm hungry"

"Okay, but have you ever been hungry for more than 10 minutes before you got to eat?" He asked walking to the kitchen with her and sitting her down on the kitchen island. "Have you?"

"No.." She said quietly sniffling and looking down at her hands.

"Baby, look at me" Lando gently lifts her chin up with his finger "You're a big sister now, and big sisters don't act this way. If your brother is crying because he's in pain, you need to be patient. No one's gonna forget about you, but you need to help mommy, and you screaming while she's trying to calm him down is not helpful at all."

Phoebe stayed silent looking at Lando with sad puppy eyes before asking "Do you l-love baby brother more than me?"

Pheebs was daddy's girl from day one. She was his first one. His everything and more. She had him completely wrapped around her finger and he knew it, but he loved it.

Since he was away a lot, he couldn't spend as much time as he wanted with his kids so he was always very lenient with them. Especially with Pheebs because she was older. She always got what she wanted and Lando was always very happy to fulfill her every wish.

He could never say no to her. How could he say no when every time when Lando goes on a race, she calls him on a video call to say "I miss you daddy, you're going to win tomorrow because you're the best" It makes his heart melt every time.

"Baby, mommy and I love you and your brother equally. There's no way we love one more than the other, okay?" He said cupping her cheeks. "But you're always gonna be daddy's little girl, yeah? My tiny princess" He starts tickling her showering kisses all over her face making her giggle.

"Will my princess eat now so we can go get ready for bed?" He asked to which she quickly agreed nodding her head.

After dinner, Lando helped her brush her teeth, put on her pyjamas and put her to bed.

"I love you, daddy." She stretched out her arms for one more hug before Lando got up and left her room.

"I love you too, darling. Good night."

Once he was done with Phoebe, he went to see where you and Kian were.

"Y/n?" He said quietly entering your bedroom with dimmed lights. You were lying on the bed next to Kian who was finally asleep. "Are you sleeping?"

"No" You answered quietly as he sat down next the two of you.

"Baby, what's wrong?" He asked noticing that your eyes were red from crying. "Come here" Opening his arms, he pulls you to himself.

"I'm so tired, Lan" You sob quietly into his chest. It was all just too much for you. You didn't have any time for yourself. You were with two little kids 24/7 and you just felt like you were losing yourself. "I feel like I'm losing my mind. He's still having cramps and it hurts me to see him in pain. And I feel like I'm neglecting Phoebe like I'm not giving her enough attention since he came and-"

"Y/n, baby, stop. I don't wanna hear you being hard on yourself. They're kids, they have their good and bad days. It doesn't mean we're failing as parents if they're having a bad day. You're the best, most loving and caring mom ever, but you need a break. Let me please find someone to help you out with them when I'm not home."

"No, I can take care of my own kids when you're not home" You were being stubborn. You were refusing to get a nanny even though you knew you needed it when Lando was away because both your and Lando's parents were not living in Monaco so they couldn't be there when you needed them.

"I know you can, but I need you to be okay above everything else." He says leaving a kiss on your head that was still resting on his chest.

"I know, I'm sorry, it's been such a hard day and I missed you so much"

"Shh, I've got you, baby."

Later that night, when both kids were fast asleep, Lando and you finally had some time for yourselves. Both of you were in the living room on the couch in front of the TV. You were half asleep with your head in Lando's lap as he played with your hair and watched some TV show.

He smiled softly when he noticed you fell asleep. He didn't want to disturb you, but he wanted to cuddle you so he pulled you up closer to him. You laid your head against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead whispering how much he loves you and how much he's proud of you.

#lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #f1 smut #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 one shot #f1 blurb #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #f1 x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris x you

[notmyneighbor]

Let Me in ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Chapter 3

Word Count ~ 2.5k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ blood and gore, body horror, character death, minor violence, dubious consent, sexual content

Also available on AO3

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

You sit on the side of the bed that had once belonged to Francis Mosses.

The comforter and top sheet have already been pulled down. You lean over to slide out of your low heeled pumps, tucking the pair of navy leather shoes neatly under the bed.

There’s a bible on the nightstand. A worn looking copy. Beside it a glass with a shallow amount of water resting in the bottom, the remnant of a late night attempt to quench thirst, perhaps.

The doppelgänger watches your movements. How methodical each action is. Slow and deliberate. You’re stalling.

He settles beside you and the mattress creaks as the springs are compressed. That odd sort of shimmer you’d noticed earlier outside the security booth outlines his frame for a brief moment. A surge of light and color as the skin ripples before settling. They still weren’t completely able to disguise what they were. All hope was not lost.

Your own fate, however, seems sealed. You lie down slowly, carefully. You feel as if you are laying yourself to rest in your own coffin. Turning your face ever so slightly to see if there is any trace of the man that had once slept here, some lingering scent or an indent from his face. Nothing but the fragrance of clean linen. The imposter moves as if to join you but you halt him, your fingers closing over his forearm. Your first time touching him and not the other way around. “Take your shoes off.”

The creature snickers, glancing down at the scuffed oxfords he’s wearing. Overdue for a shine. “What possible difference does that make?”

“It’s respectful. You never put your shoes where someone sleeps.”

“He won’t be sleeping here ever again.”

You inhale sharply, wincing. “Please just do it.” You can’t say why you’re so hung up on this. Only that it seems the right thing to do. A small thing in a sea of wrongs that you’re clinging to like a life preserver.

“Fine.” He acquiesces, bending to unlace them. There is no care in his actions. Just brisk, impatient pulls to undo the knotted ties. Then he is lying beside you. Your heads sharing the same pillow. Francis only used a single one, apparently. Preferring to slumber lying with his head and neck rather flat. You always used two fluffy pillows, minimum.

You can hear the sound of music starting to play, emanating from the resident’s apartment next door.

Mia Stone, perhaps. The blonde teacher who was Dr. Afton’s fiancée. You instantly recognize the musical artist crooning through the walls: Billie Holiday.

I say I'll move the mountains

And I'll move the mountains

If he wants them out of the way

You would have loved to play this record for Francis. You envision trying to dance in the cramped space of the living room, twirling around in his arms. “Did he really like my fragrance?” You know the creature could lie, of course. He’d say anything to manipulate you and get what he wanted. But you have to ask. Your heart won’t let you avoid the query.

The dark eyes of the pretender regard you. You detect no malice or dishonesty there. “Yes,” he says simply.

You close your eyes, sighing. “What else did he like about me?”

“Your smile, gifted once you were certain it was really him. The way you covered your mouth when you laugh, making some little relieved joke when you passed his identification and entry request back to him each day. The strands of hair that came loose around your face as the day wore on into late afternoon when he returned from his route. The—”

“—Stop. Please.” Tears well in your eyes. They didn’t sound like the kind of details the deceiver would create on his own. There was a note of truth to them. Genuine recollections. He truly was all that remained of Francis Mosses. A man that had been fond of you. You could have been with him, if only you’d been a little braver.

“You asked me to tell you.”

“I know. It’s just overwhelming.”

Like the wind that shakes the bough

He moves me with a smile

“Your kind is so fond of music. Your milkman was always humming. I don’t see the use for it.”

The your wrenches your heart. He wasn’t yours. Never would be. “It’s a way to expression emotions. When words alone aren’t enough.”

“Hmmm.” He reaches out and you flinch. “Why are you fighting this so hard? This is what you wanted.”

“I didn’t want Francis to die.” You pause, swallowing past the lump in your throat. “Why do you want this?”

”Curiosity. An experiment of sorts. There has never been a union between our kind. Not of this nature. A desire to know what it feels like. To see what might result.”

You shudder. An experiment. Using you like some kind of animal for breeding. A mere whim.

He reaches again and this time you force yourself to hold steady, your chin lifting with a short jerk of defiance. Your hair is his goal. Tucking it back behind one ear. Maybe something the milkman had wanted to do. There’s a sudden softness in the doppelgänger’s eyes. As if the human he’d once been was peeking through at you. You find yourself melting again, your defenses coming down.

I say I'll care forever

And I mean forever

He moves closer to you. Inching over across the white fitted sheet. A thumb strokes away one of the tears that has escaped its prison. He captures the other from the opposite cheek, bringing it to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste the droplet. “Salt,” he says, recognizing the mineral.

He kisses you.

You’re not sure if it’s better to think of the man you had loved or not. Was it dishonoring his memory or was it a way to keep him present in some vague capacity? There’s no clumsiness this time. He knows the feel of your mouth. The way to shift against you. Tongue mapping past smooth cheeks and dragging along the carpet of muscle at the base of that maw. Maybe it was better to pretend this was Francis after all. You cup the back of his neck, fingers teasing the edges of his milk chocolate tresses. Curling slightly on the ends. It would be time for a trim soon. Would have been. The illusion you’ve created is crumbling again. Your lips falter, your hand dropping away.

Crazy he calls me

Sure, I'm crazy

Crazy in love am I

“Sweetheart,” the invader murmurs, tasting along your jaw, your neck. “I like the way you smell.” Speaking for himself, not Francis. You hear the sharp intake of air. The hand that had been casually laid across your shoulder slides down until it reaches your breast, gently kneading that globe through the layers of your bra and blouse. “Does this feel good?” His voice is octaves lower than you’d ever heard from the milkman. Slightly raspy and sultry, not unlike the singing voice that permeates through the wood and plaster behind the bed. You don’t dare answer, merely whimpering a little and he seems to take this as an affirmative response.

His hand leaves your breast and finds the top button of your shirt. Always sensible, pure white, part of the uniform standard the company requires. Another threaded plastic disc is pushed through the hole. He works his way down until all those that are exposed have surrendered, the remainder still tucked within your skirt. His fingers part the edges of the fabric encasing your torso, peeling them back to reveal the white satin brassiere beneath. He caresses you briefly through this slick material before tucking inside the cup until he brushes across your areola. Your nipple peaks beneath his ministrations as his lips move back to yours. He is surprisingly gentle, lightly pinching and rolling the aroused tissue. Your body betrays you, responding to the creature’s touch. You should be ashamed, disgusted. Instead you find yourself wanting more.

“Off,” he murmurs impatiently, plucking at your bra before his hand departs your chest. You struggle to sit up and he allows it, watching you pull your blouse free from your skirt and unfastening the cuffs before sliding it off your arms. With a swift gesture borne of long practice you easily pinch and release the hook and eye closures resting along the center of your spine, the cups immediately folding down over the underwire, the straps drooping over your shoulders.

The doppelgänger assists you now, sliding the brassiere off the rest of the way, exposing your chest to him. Your cheeks are pink, flushed like the nipples he’s toying with again, his head bending to suckle at one and a lick of flame sears your core. This is part of the invasive species’ learning process, you think. Taste as important as touch. His mouth moving not with the sole purpose of your pleasure in mind, but as a means to explore flavors and textures. Cataloguing. More of humanity’s secrets unveiled.

There is a song you don’t recognize playing next door now. Muffled voices. You’d had no idea the walls were so thin. Francis had never complained.

You’re shoved back down onto the pillow. His mouth wanders, back up to sample a collar bone, the hollow at the base of your throat, then dips in between your breasts and tastes the skin of your abdomen. You wonder if he can detect the floral soap you’d bathed with that morning, the traces of lotion you’d applied during your hygiene routine.

“I like this,” he says, his breath warm on your body. “You’re so soft. Smooth. Not like…I’ve never taken…” It had often been debated if there were sexes in their species. How they propagated. There was still so much unknown. Was there a reason he’d only chosen men to replicate? Was it simply because he was male himself? You could not explain how you knew it, but there was something distinctly masculine about him. Authoritative. Blunter than a woman would be. A lifetime of being raised to respect decorum had been firmly ingrained in you. Society valuing a woman who knows her place. Taught to be demure, deferring to the wisdom and guidance of their male counterparts. Serving and obeying, like you’re doing now.

The imposter returns his attention to your face. Licking your mouth back open. He likes this, you think. All of what you’d shared thus far, but perhaps the kissing best of all.

The background melody silences and you think you detect the front door opening and closing. You wonder if the couple will be going out to an early dinner. Curious when they find there is no one guarding the building. But not alarmed. Not yet.

Your skirt is being lifted, polyester dragged upward after the copycat’s hasty reach downward to gather the hem. Immediately sliding back down, stroking over your exposed thighs that are clad in nylons that stop midway across each of your upper legs. Nothing fancy, just utilitarian features in a shade of nude slightly more tanned than your own complexion. He nudges against the seal you’ve created by pressing your legs close together. “Let me in, sweet girl.” An echo of what he’d said earlier in an attempt to gain access to the building, now seeking entry into you. You feel your limbs parting for him nearly as promptly as you’d opened the door.

The pretender works his way back up to the fork of your body, teasing along the crotch of the white panties. You gasp and he smiles against your lips. His palm drags over the fabric until his fingers find the elastic waistband and he dips beneath it, running overly the neatly trimmed hair on your pubic mound, following the curve of that padded flesh until your sex is palpated.

Another gasp and a moan escapes you. “So wet,” he remarks, fondling the pink lips, parting the petals with his middle finger to slide through the slick arousal your body is creating, working the lubricant up and down, passing over the hooded nub and then delving back towards your entrance, where more fluid escapes.

It feels good and yet it doesn’t, his fingers too rough and just shy of where you need him. You squirm and wince at the harsh handling of your clitoris and he pauses, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Show me. Show me how you like to be touched.”

You reach down cautiously, guiding his fingers to one side of your sensitive bud, lightly pressing and rolling a fingertip so that your clit is ground slightly against the bone beneath. Alternating now, reaching back down to gather more of your slick before spreading it over that hooded button, a few direct strokes applied before beginning the process again. He replicates your actions and your body responds immediately, a hum of pleasure heating you. You close your eyes and you think of the milkman, the real one, with his kind smile and his tired eyes.

“Francis.” The name escapes your lips and you freeze, the rocking motion of your hips against the imposter’s hand abruptly ceasing. You hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Alarmed by how easily you’d allowed yourself to give in to the desire, accommodating this make believe passion.

“It’s alright, love. It’s me. I’m here.” His tongue laps at your ear, at the sensitive patch of skin behind it. You shiver and resume grinding against his fingers, letting yourself be deluded once more, your hand curling over his forearm.

“Francis,” you say again, hoping he can forgive you, in whatever form he now occupies, if he is saved as his faith professes he would be, finding redemption and peace, somewhere far from your sinning body that writhes in pleasure from his murderer’s touch.

You push against his hand and he allows it, applying force against the hollow cavity that leads to your womb. “Let me in,” he breathes, and you feel a finger invading your body, shoving through the narrow confines of that muscular tunnel. Withdrawing and spearing again, the digit saturated with your arousal. You moan and lift your pelvis to meet him. Curling inside, massaging that dip of spongy tissue. Crooking each time he enters as if he is leading you forward, beckoning, his thumb drawing circles over your clit. You feel as if you’re on the edge of a chasm, teetering on the rim, about to drop forward into heat and darkness. Keening now. Thighs tremoring violently. Your face turns and your teeth sink into the pillow. “There you go, love. Give it to me. Give in to me.”

The coiling pressure within you snaps and you find release at last, the fabric clenched in your teeth doing little to muffle the sound of your orgasm. You’re drenched in sweat, the aftershocks of your appeased nerves still sizzling through you. The doppelgänger cradles you through all of it, holding you as you ride the waves that exhaust your limbs, making you feel boneless and limp.

“Francis.” It’s a yearning plea, a futile prayer, answered by the thing that is not him, but masquerades as such, crooning to you, whispering false promises, draping you in synthetic affection, a lie you want so desperately to believe.

#thats not my neighbor #francis mosses #milkman #francis mosses x you #francis mosses x reader #milkman x you #milkman x reader #doppelgänger

[fangswbenefits]

Breathe

Summary: Astarion is more than eager to show you the perks of not breathing.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Face riding/sitting. Praise kink. Precum. Cumplay (if you squint). Masturbation.

Word count: 1.6k

It was the cold press of lips along the nape of your neck that gradually raised you from your sleep.

“Astarion…”

The arm around your waist pulled you in closer, and you shuddered at the feel of his usually cool skin now warm from your own body heat. 

He began trailing lingering kisses along your shoulder as his hand travelled upwards until his thumb brushed the underside of one breast.

“I’m sleepy…” you grumbled, burying your face in the soft pillow.

“I’ll wake you up.”

And he meant every word.

A dedicated lover such as Astarion would always find a way to bestow pleasure upon you whenever possible.

“You know….there’s perks to not breathing.”

You let out a yawn. “Is that so?”

He hummed, tracing the area around your nipple without quite touching it, effectively having your body yearn for more.

The faintest pressure against your backside was enough to note that his cock was beginning to harden.

Neither of you ever bothered wearing clothes to bed as it would just be a nuisance whenever lust decided to strike.

“And what makes you say that?” you mumbled.

Slowly but surely, he hardened your nipple with the pad of his thumb, always eager to showcase just how masterful he could be with his fingers.

“Sit on my face.”

That remark immediately had your eyes open and you turned your head to meet his gaze.

“Oh, do not act so coy, darling,” he cooed with a click of his tongue, giving your nipple a teasing squeeze. “You do know I adore tasting you in more ways than one.” 

That you did, but you had yet to indulge in his suggestion.

Instinctively, you bucked your hips into him, earning a quick hiss as his cock began to drip precum.

“Go on… sit on my face.”

There was a hint of despair in his voice that did wonders to your ego and to the growing swell in between your folds.

You pushed yourself to sit before giving his lips a quick peck, which drew a devious smile from him. 

“I don’t want to hurt you…” you said hesitantly.

He patted your thigh lovingly. “Darling, the only pain you can inflict on me is from not allowing me to eat you out.”

Heat rushed to your face in record time.

As always, Astarion had a gift for words, especially when it came to seduction. 

He rolled onto his back, giving your backside a light squeeze and nudging you forward. 

Oh.

You felt the familiar throb down below provide enough motivation for you to slowly shift along the mattress and settle each leg on either side of his head, gripping the headboard for support.

One glance down and you saw him give you an encouraging smile.

It was unjust how handsome he was…

And you still feared it might be too much…

“Are you sure about this?”

He rolled his eyes dramatically, and hooked both arms around your thighs, quickly yanking you down until his cool tongue was pressed flat against your folds.

You immediately let out a gasp as his nose settled against the growing swell, providing a delicious friction that had you nearly losing balance until you leaned forward against the wooden headboard.

Gods above…

The tip of his tongue prodded at your entrance briefly before he slowly dragged it along your folds and closed his lips around your swell.

That nearly took your breath away and you could stop yourself from clenching desperately around nothing as he suckled softly on you.

It was getting harder and harder to stop yourself from grinding down and fully riding his face, and you were sure your knees would cramp eventually if you kept resisting his pull. 

Astarion began sucking harder, his grip on your thighs tightened and you could hear an increasing disapproving growl from him.

Startled, you lifted your hips at once, glancing down at his handsome handsome, your wetness coating his nose and lips and chin.

A glorious sight, indeed.

“Was it too much?”

He scowled. Deeply.

“I told you to sit on my face, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but…”

Oh, he wasn’t amused at all.

“Then don’t hold back. Please.”

There was something truly riveting about Astarion pleading you to let him please you, that never failed to make your heart skip several beats.

You slowly lowered yourself, watching his eyes flutter shut as you settled against his mouth once again.

This time, you earned a content rumble from him, his tongue eagerly lapping at your wetness and the pressure of his nose against you already testing your sanity.

Lunging forward, you gripped the headboard, resting your face against your arms as a string of moans began to spill from your mouth.

With each swipe of his tongue… every nudge of his nose and all the groans that reverberated across his lips against your swell.

He felt divine and you chose to fully cave in, rolling your hips and occasionally glancing down to stare at the gorgeous man underneath you that so skillfully worshipped every single inch of your body.

“Gods…” you kept on groaning from time to time whenever he caught a hold of you again and hungrily began to suckle.

It was proving to be a struggle just keeping your eyes open to witness your wetness spread along his skin.

As aroused as you were, you still tried your best to ride him slowly, yearning for more friction, but it wasn’t until you brought one hand down to grip his unruly curls that he groaned harder against you, one of his arms dropping from your thigh.

Driven by curiosity and through the near-blinding haze of lust, you looked over your shoulder only to see his hand firmly closing around his cock.

A deep moan escaped your lips at the obscene amount of precum that dripped from the tip in a single thick string pooling on his lower abdomen.

You felt him open his mouth, his fangs prodding teasingly against your skin. For a moment, you feared your rolling hips might cause him to accidentally nip you, but you needn’t worry.

Astarion was an attentive lover who excelled at prioritising pleasure above all else. Both his and yours. 

Your pleasure was his.

His pleasure was your.

And you were now completely unable to look away from the way he quickly matched the rhythm in which he stroked his cock with that of his tongue delving past your entrance.

“Astarion… go easy…” you gasped, closing your fingers around his soft curls as you simultaneously held on for dear life with a fierce grip on the headboard.

But he had no intention of slowing down and that was evident from how deep he was willing to go inside you, nose firmly pressed against between your folds.

The lewd sounds of him slurping your wetness mixed with those that he drew with each stroke around his cock began to echo throughout the room, further pushing you closer to your peak.

It utterly baffled you that he could be so turned on from having you in this position, but it shouldn't come as a surprise, considering how he never held back showering you in devotion and how much your responses would stroke his ego.

Precum dribbled along his length and down to his hand, small droplets dangling from it as he increased the pace, his own hips rhythmically lifting from the mattress as he fucked his own hand.

Feeling the ever-growing coil rise in your lower abdomen, you promptly chased after your high by grinding against him even more vigorously. Astarion responded to your newfound pace with a groan, sliding his tongue out and focusing his entire attention precisely where he should.

Such a devoted lover…

As soon as his hips wrapped around your swell, you bucked your hips further against him, breaking into a strained sob as you leaned forward to recover the balance he had knocked out of your body with his skillful mouth.

Incoherent words erupted from deep within you as you rode his face, desperate to reach that high only he could deliver. 

With a few more suckles, your vision began to blur as you felt the overwhelming wave of pleasure crash down on you, now gripping strands of his hair in fists with both hands, stilling abruptly as your spasming thighs squeezed around his face.

“You’re so good…” you moaned, knowing fully well how much he adored your praise.

That was also what eventually drove him to reach his own peak, as the arm around your thigh began to tighten and his lips let go of your so his mouth could drop open in a muffled growl.

With wobbly legs and laboured breaths, you dropped to the side just so you could witness him riding out his own wave of bliss.

His face was completely soaked in your wetness, which streamed down his cheeks and his chin and neck.

Astarion always looked absolutely ethereal whilst coming undone, and you weren’t able to tear your eyes away from the amount of come that he kept squeezing from the tip with an iron-tight grip. 

You shifted closer to him, pressing a soft kiss to his wet cheek as he cried out your name.

“You did so good…” you kept on repeating in between kisses before he hungrily took your lips in his, muffling his own groans.

You hadn’t realised your hand had moved to his chest until you felt a few strings of his spend coating your skin, but you couldn’t care less.

Tasting yourself in him drew an approving moan from you and he slowly broke the kiss, his eyelids heavy with the aftermath of lust.

“I reckon we should indulge in this more often.”

You chuckled, swiping your tongue along his lip. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this famished…”

He gripped your chin and pulled you into a searing kiss before parting again. “Is that a challenge, darling?”

Masterlist

#astarion smut #astarion x tav #astarion x female reader #astarion x female tav #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x you #astarion x f!tav #astarion x reader

[court-of-starss]

Comfort of Family

Summary: Your cycle leaves you pining for your mate.

Warnings: Periods, a whole bunch of fluff, Rhys being the best older brother ever.

a/n: Honestly I just wanted an excuse to write Rhys as an older brother. Enjoy my migraine induced drabble!

Masterlist

Feyre had never seen Rhys look as nervous as he did now, standing in front of the wooden door of his little sister. He was tense as he lifted his hand to knock, hesitating as he took in a nervous breath.

“I think you’re being a bit dramatic.” Feyre mumbled, raising a hand to gently rub his tense back, biting her lip to hide her amusement as he shot her an accusatory look over his shoulder.

“You don’t understand, she’s not my little star during her cycle” His voice trailed into a whisper, “she’s a chocolate hoarding dragon.” Feyre couldn’t hold back her laugh at his dramatics, so scared of his closest family member, his baby sister.

“I assume she’s going to be even worse as you’ve sent her mate off to gods know where.” Feyre giggled, hiding her smile behind her hand when Rhys narrowed his eyes at her and huffed. He took a deep breath before turning back around and finally raising his hand to gently knock on the door, turning the doorknob and entering at the soft ‘come in’ that emerged from the room.

The curtains were drawn, leaving the room in darkness hiding the mass under the heavy black sheets of the bed. Feyre rolled her eyes at Rhys’ hesitation to enter, giving him a gentle shove forward before closing the door behind him, leaving him to face his sister alone.

‘Traitor.’ He shot down the bond, his lips curving up slightly at her soft laugh that he felt through his chest. He cautiously approached the bed, eyebrows crunching together at the small sniffle that leaked from her. He felt guilt swarm him at her pain, her cycles much more painful than the ordinary fae.

“You better have chocolate Rhys.” You growled, your eyes peaking out from under the blankets to glare at your older brother who was now crouching down in front of you. He looked so much like your mother like this, his eyes soft as he examined the scrunch of your brows. He raised his hand, revealing a pouch from your favorite sweet shop in town. He grinned and set them on the night stand, next to your mates’ dagger, the one he always left by your side.

“Thank you.” You mumbled, cringing when another wave of pain travelled through you, your back and abdomen cramping painfully. Rhys frowned and gentle wiped the sweat from your brow, cupping your cheek softly as his talons slipped into your mind to ease some of the pain coursing through you.

“I’m still mad at you, for sending him away.” He sighed and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, making himself comfortable, ignoring your glare as he rested his head on your mates pillow.

“It was urgent and I assure you he will be back soon little star.” He had a teasing grin on his face as he bumped your foot with his. “Besides I’m sure he’ll give me enough of a beating when he gets home.” He snickered, he never turned down an opportunity to roll around the training mat with the shadowsinger.

A soft sniffle left you as you rested your temple on his shoulder, taking a few deep breaths. His scent easing your mind slightly, knowing you were safe with your best friend by your side. You could never truly be mad at your brother, a fact he knew and took advantage of often. While most compared him to your father, you always saw your mother in him. In his gentle eyes, in his caring actions, in his selfless actions, in his court.

“I miss him.” You mumbled, tears dripping down your cheeks as Rhys rested his cheek against your hair, humming softly.

“What can I do?” He asked gently, his heart aching at your pain and tears. A sight that he couldn’t stand.

“I just want Azriel.” You sniffled, wiping your cheek on his shirt, not even feeling guilty at the damp spot on his shirt. He sighed and sat up, pulling your head onto his lap as he ran his fingers through your hair soothingly. Humming softly as your eyelids started to droop.

“He’ll be home soon I promise little star.” Rhys said softly, his words sending you into a blissful sleep full of shadows and gleaming hazel eyes full of love and laughter.

-

You grumbled when you felt something caressing your cheek, a soft cool touch that drew you from the sweet dream you were having of your other half. You peeled your eyes open, blinking a few times to clear the fog of sleep. Your gaze snapped to a soft hazel gaze, kneeling next to the bed with a gentle smile was your mate. Your Azriel.

Your lip wobbled as you processed that he was here, your hand lifting from the blankets to hold the back of his caressing your cheek.

“Hey baby.” He mumbled, his eyes tracking the fresh tears now gathering in your waterline.

“Az.” You whined, tugging his hand. He complied, sliding under the blankets and huffing a laugh when you immediately curled into his body, leg draping over his hips as his arm slid over your shoulders to tug you into chest. You buried your face into his neck, taking long breaths of his scent, the smell of home. His palm slid down until it pressed against your lower back, the spot he knew always gave you the worst pains.

“Never leave me again.” You mumbled into his throat, smiling when he made a noise of agreement, the sound rumbling down to his chest. His other hand lifting to stroke through your hair, his nose pressed into your temple taking deep breaths of his beloved mate.

It could have been hours, perhaps days that you spent in this position with him, your body finally fully relaxed. But alas the moment was ruined, by your traitorous stomach letting out a deep grumble of protest. Az let out a puffed laugh, pressing a soft kiss to your hair before sliding you up onto his chest and rising from the bed.

You grumbled unhappily at the loss of the soft sheets and buried your head in his neck as he carried you out into the dining room, full of your loud and nosy family. Nose scrunching at Rhys and Mor loudly arguing over whom had the better hair in the family, you scoffed softly knowing it was neither of them.

“Oh, Az what do I have to do to get you to carry me around like that?” Cassian drawled, waving you off when you raised your head to snarl at him. You glared at his cheeky smile, softening slightly when he winked at you.

“For the last time Cassian, you are not my type.” Azriel groaned in fake annoyance, his lips tipping up slightly. You giggled when Cas held his hand to his heart and groaned dramatically, his own mate rolling her eyes, shooting you a soft smile before turning back to her conversation with Feyre.

Your heart warmed at the picture of your family, all cozied up on the comfy couches in front of the roaring fireplace, laughter ringing through the room as each member of your family relaxed with each other. A sight you had thought wouldn’t ever happen again 50 years ago, the joy and care radiating from everyone in the room was enough to tip your lips up, your pain from your cycle almost completely forgotten as your mate tipped his back with a roaring laugh as his brother continued his teasing.

Your eyes met Rhys’ as he smiled at you, his arm wrapped around his mate as she laughed at something Nesta was explaining, probably an embarrassing fact about poor Cassian. You smiled back, your eyes filling with happy tears as you finally witnessed the love and happiness on his face, after a long life of suffering, the pair of you were finally happy.

I love you Rhys.

I love you too, little star.

Azriel carried you into the kitchen, setting you on the counter as he turned to rifle through the cupboards, he always made you food when you were on your cycle, knowing you loved his cooking.

You sent a pulse of love down the golden string attaching your souls together, smiling widely when he shot a cheeky wink over his shoulder at you.

With the laughter flowing into the room from your family, and the sound of Azriel humming softly to himself as he started cooking, you felt your body relax. You had faced darkness head on and you knew at this moment that you would face it again if it meant that this life was waiting for you at the end.

“What do you mean Helion is hotter than me?! That is bullshit!” Cassian exclaimed from the other room, causing a loud laugh to leave your lips as your mate turned to grin at you, his own laugh leaving him as his eyes twinkled.

Watching you giggle and turn to shout back at Cassian, Azriel knew he would face death itself to keep the glittering smile on your face for eternity.

#acotar series #azriel #azriel x reader #rhysand x reader #big brother rhysand #azriel x you #cassian acotar #emmie writes #acotar #velaris #night court #azriel shadowsinger

[sweetcyberangel]

Inhale, Exhale

Stoner!Ellie Williams x Reader Synopsis: It's your first time smoking, luckily you have a super hot stoner girlfriend to guide you tags/Warnings: Established relationship, modern/college au, weed usage, Dom!Ellie (casually), might be slightly inaccurate, oopsies

The week had been brutal, a relentless onslaught of exams and assessments left you mere moments away from a breakdown. Each word you read is in one ear, out the other. Entirely incomprehensible. Your head hurts, your eyes hurt and your motivation is dwindling. Ah, the joys of college…

A knock on your dorm room door jolts you out of the complete disarray inside your head, which would've been a relief if the sound didn't reverberate around your skull. Okay, maybe it was time for a break.

You stand on legs that are weak from hours of sitting idly at your cramped desk. Reaching for the door handle, you swear you could almost start crying at the sight of your girlfriend. How did you get so lucky.

“I texted earlier to let you know I was coming but you never replied…” She starts as she squeezes past you, walking into your dorm room as if it was her second home (which - to be fair - it absolutely is). Her eyes scan the textbooks scattered on your desk as you sit on the edge of your bed. “"You okay?" she inquires softly at your silence, her eyebrows knitting together in worry. With a weary groan, you slump back onto your bed,  “I never want to look at another textbook again”. Ellie chuckles affectionately, sitting next to you on the bed. 

“How about you go shower and get comfy for me angel, I’ll pack all this shit up and we can just relax for a bit. You look all tense" "But ellie my exa-" "Your exams will go great. Just for tonight, kay? Even just for a few hours” Her tone is firm and reassuring. You sigh with contemplation. I mean, she’s right. Your body is tense, your head is pounding, and you feel as if any more information might just cause your brain to shut down entirely.  So you nod, pick out some pyjamas and make your way to the bathrooms. The idea of a warm shower, fresh clothes and the comfort of your nightly skincare routine is already easing all the built up pressure.

—------------------------------------

When you return to your dorm room feeling clean (and like you can actually think again) Ellie is sitting on your bed, textbooks packed away, her music playing softly from your speaker and a rolled blunt sitting between her fingers. She smiles at you softly when you step inside, patting the bed next to her “c’mere”. 

You settle beside her, then flop over into her lap, head resting on her thighs. You turn over to look up at her, admiring the way she tilts her head back to exhale the earthy smoke away from you. She looks ethereal. 

“Mmm… Ellie?” 

“Yeah, baby?” she responds, her tone gentle and attentive.

“Do you think I could… try?” you ask tentatively, feeling a mix of nerves and curiosity swirling inside you.

She seems momentarily surprised, before a soft laugh escapes her lips. “This?” she clarifies, holding the blunt out to you. You nod your head timidly. She knows you've never smoked before, it’s not that you think it's bad or are uncomfortable by it, you’ve just always been a little nervous about it. 

Her auburn hair falls in front of her face as she looks down at you, hand caressing the supple skin of your cheeks, “Alright, sit up f’ me baby” 

You sit on your knees, legs tucked neatly beneath you, watching as she takes another hit of the joint before moving all of her attention to you.

“You’re sure you wanna do this?” She checks, “Yeah, ‘m sure,” you reassure with a soft smile. You’d mentioned wanting to smoke with Ellie for a while now, and now is a better time than any, right? 

“Open,” She taps your lips softly with her thumb and you part them as she places the edge of the blunt between them, “breathe in nice and slowly for me, bring the smoke into your mouth”. You take a steady breath in. You wonder if it's the first time you've taken a proper moment to breathe all day. It is. The warm smoke fills your mouth, swirling around your senses, and you hold it there for a beat before Ellie directs you again. “Good, breathe it into your lungs ‘nd then breathe it out, nice and slow”. 

The smoke fills your lungs and for a moment you think you are going to cough, but manage to slowly breathe it out, watching as the smoke swirls around your small dorm room. You look back over at Ellie to see her watching you, eyes starting to glaze over and all filled with endearment. 

She brings the blunt back to her own lips, inhaling deeply before her hand gently grasps your jaw. Instinctively, you part your lips, anticipation tingling through you as she exhales the smoke between you. "Breathe in," she softly commands, her lips hovering close to yours, her touch sending shivers down your spine. As her lips meet yours, she places gentle hands on the sides of your face. You can feel yourself relaxing, body easing up and thoughts becoming quieter, more gentle, more sluggish. You let her take the lead, it's soft and intimate.  

As she pulls away, she shifts to lay on her back against your soft comforter, her arms opening invitingly to you. You crawl over, resting your head against her chest, finding solace in the tired ache permeating your bones.  Ellie offers you another puff of the blunt and you gladly take it, letting the comforting scent soothe your exhausted mind. Ellie takes a last hit before ashing it out, rubbing your back with one arm while the other rests beneath her head. 

“Get some sleep, okay?” she hums softly. Between your dazed mind, the gentle rhythm of your girlfriend's hands running up and down your spine, and the combined scent of her and the pot enveloping your senses, you don’t think you'd be able to stay awake even if you tried.

#ellie x fem reader #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #tlou ellie #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader

[coeurify]

repost the period vampire ellie fic!

middle of the night,, vamp!ellie

a/n: this is a repost from early this year so excuse any change in writing style!

warnings: vampire!ellie. period sex. oral!r receiving fingering!r receiving. sort of a dreamy, less modern vibe. if u aren’t into it.. just don’t read it.

˚✦　.　　. 　  ˚　.　 . ✦　˚　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

Some times--Most times, you only saw her at night. When darkness enveloped the small town you called home, when the stars rocked the sleepy eyed humans to sleep and the moon hummed the lullaby that quieted the crickets outside, she came.

Only then did you ever hear the distinct creaking of the splitting wood on your window panes being pressed up. Only then did the white of your sheer curtains move with more than the wind, the grip of the air nothing compared to the long hand that often wrapped around the fabric and pushed it open. When the moon was the only light filtering into your room, you saw the green of her eyes.

Tonight was no different, despite one little issue. Often, the woman who visited you under the cover of midnight would arrive to your eyes closed in sleep. She would press a hand to your warm cheek before waking you, greeted by your sleepy excitement each time.

This time, you had not been able to sleep. A heat had taken over your body, tight in your stomach with a pain you would compare to that of claws gnawing at your insides. Sweat beaded between your brows with every swift turn under your uncomfortable sheets, lip tugged between your frustrated teeth to stop any whines of discomfort. That had been what your favorite visitor heard as her shaking palms found the wood of your window. Your pained grunts floated through her buzzing ears as she quietly made her way into your room, auburn hair messy behind her ears as her figure became visible, head tilted as she looked across the room to your heated body.

“El,” you whined, wiping your forehead with a hand, not at all concerned about her chosen point of entry. “Go away.”

Ellie’s gaze softened, a scoff sounding from behind your squeezed shut eyes. “Go away?” she mused, her voice much closer now.

The split second your eyes had been closed, Ellie had somehow silently made it to your bedside. You don't question it, you never do.

When a girl like Ellie sports small fangs and a taste for blood, her speed is the last thing you think to question.

“I don't feel well, don’t want you here.” you add, mouth pulled into pout as you look up at the freckled face of Ellie.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong, bunny? Instead of shooing me away,” Ellie requests, sitting on the edge of your bed. Her cold hand finds your sweaty arm, sighing. “You’re burning up.”

Your neck tickles with heat as Ellie questions your current state, and you fall wordless. Somehow, it was more embarrassing to admit to your vampire visitor that you were starting your period than to simply tell her to leave. Obviously however, Ellie was not taking the second option as a valid answer.

“I started my period, nothing is helpin’ the cramps,” you explain softly, pressing your hand into the sheets of your bed to try and sit, to maybe find some sort of relief to the growing tension in your stomach. But the other set of hands is faster.

“Lay down,” Ellie insists, glancing down at you. You can almost see the cogs of her brain turning behind the evergreen in her eyes, a sort of fogginess settling over the color.

“Let me help you,” she eventually says.

“What? I told you nothi-”

Ellie presses her lips together to hush you, one wandering hand finding the dip of your hip, blunt nail tracing the goosebump coated flesh there. Sometimes she liked being so cold, simply because she enjoyed seeing how you reacted to it. If she was damned for what she was, she may as well use some of it to her advantage.

“What are you doing?” You couldn't help the shiver that followed her movements.

Suddenly your mouth feels dry, tongue unable to wet the plump fat of your lip. The scratching in your throat finds no comfort when you swallow, only further irritating your vocal chords. A choked noise finds the heavy bedroom air as fingers tug at your cotton shorts.

“Helping you,” Ellie repeats, her own mouth much more wet than yours. Even in the dim light of the moon you can see the glistening dew on her parted lips. Usually the look she currently wears is saved only for when her pearly teeth find the sensitive and already scarred skin of your neck. Not for.. this.

Your hands immediately slap to your heated cheeks. “Oh my god Ellie, no fucking way.”

The vampire, who had now moved below you on the bed, hums in disagreement to your little show of kicking feet, a hand too strong to be that of a human halting all movements.

“We always have fun when I come over,” The freckles of her face disappear as she glances down, fully pulling down your shorts.

“Not when I’m on my period,” you hiss quietly, the words feeling cracked and embarrassed as they leave your mouth. You could deny the growing arousal in your belly simply by how *mortified* you felt. Even with the churning feeling of deeply settled embarrassment, you make no further moves to stop Ellie. Not as the shorts fall to the floor with a dull thump.

“It’ll help,” Ellie soothes, the near frigid temperature of her hand calming the heat that rises on the skin of your legs. “Haven’t you heard things like this help with cramps?”

The words that are spoken almost teasingly fall upon deaf ears as her wet lips press right above your knee. “Please,” the auburn haired girl whispers, sounding a lot more breathy than before. “Please, let me taste you. Let me make you feel better. ”

Ellie had a tendency to become a little less cold, figuratively at least, when she found her body nestled between your own. The unwavering voice you had grown oh so accustomed to always slid into a more mushy sounding version whenever it got intimate. Today, it seemed even worse. The words dripped with the sweet sounds of neediness, a sound that tasted sweet on your tongue, which swiped nervously over your dry lips.

“El..” Another kiss pressed further up the flesh of your warm thigh broke any following denial. “Fuck..” your chin wobbles, almost too embarrassed to actually say your following words, “Yea. Please help.”

You were sure if you believed something was watching down on you from the sky, it was with horror. Some people may call what Ellie was doing sinful. The angels in the clouds would shrilly gasp as fingers wrapped around your panties and tugged them and everything else from your bottom half, tossing them into the growing pile of clothes. Her shirt came next, the simple white cloth acted as something to watch as it pulled off of her chest, likely to avoid any mess. Some may call the sight of her dipping down again, green eyes looking up at your quivering lip, sinful. Maybe it was, surely the mewl you made when her lips found the heated flesh of your inner thigh was. But if you had to describe it, that wasn't the word you would use. You may even swear it was heavenly.

“Relax,” Ellie drawled, spreading your thighs further apart, despite the slight tremble to them. “I’ve got you, don't worry,” her voice soothed you enough to tilt your head back against the pillow, squeezing your eyes closed. The embarrassment simmered low in your belly, even more so when you could feel the arousal that dripped from you, which your vampire visitor had no problem pointing out. “So wet for me,” she groaned, lips still refusing to find home anywhere other than your thighs. Teeth sharper than your own nipped at the skin there, bucking your hips up. “You want this, don’t you?”

It was an obvious request for another confirmation of what was to come, but your chest felt too tight to reply, no air finding your lungs the moment her breath hovered over your pulsing core. “Tell me you want it,” she requests again, voice dipping into a softer territory again, searching for your approval. Her resolve was cracking however, jaw clicking as she tried her best not to dive straight into where she craved to be.

“I do,” you whine, eyes still closed as you answered, words met with the quick and overwhelming feeling of her tongue pressing flat against your wet center. You couldn’t think too hard about the fact she was doing this right now, not when the sharp gasp had come from two mouths instead of one, a quick call of, “Fuck,” from only you this time followed. Ellie had no words, not as her tongue made another long stripe up your pussy, going much slower than you liked. It led one small roll of your hips down into her, a sign for what you searched for.

It resulted in a hand gripping your hip, pressing you further down into the mattress, ceasing any attempt to control the movements. Her mouth pressed further into you, licking at the same excruciatingly slow pace, seemingly taking her time to enjoy the taste she found between your thighs. “El,” you gasp, eyes fluttering open to glance down at her. However her eyes were closed, another press further into you came, her nose bumping your clit as she licked into you. The rush it brings is almost enough to completely paint over the lingering cramping in your stomach.

The dizzying mixture of pain and pleasure seeps into your bones, making you feel too heavy to do much else than move a hand to find Eliie’s hair, fingers tangling between the auburn strands. You tried again to guide her movements, but she was much stronger than you, paying little mind to the shaky hand that tugged at her locks.

“Taste so fuckin..” she sucked in a breath, unable to keep from dipping back into your folds, humming. “So fuckin’ good,” she finishes, words reverberating against your throbbing core. It had you trying to squirm, held down by the stone light weight of Ellie’s grip. The deeper she licked, the more you fought against her. Your body ached the do something.. anything to find comfort in the overwhelming feeling of her still slow pace. The fingers in her hair tugged again, finding a low groan in response.

The air of the room had already been heavy on your feverish skin, but now it was nearing a state of unbearably humid. Every time Ellie’s tongue made a particularly aimed movement you felt another round of fire straight in the mess that was your clenching core. It all felt so heightened, so much better. The sticky feeling on your skin did not slow either of you down, and you had little care for the sweat beading on your flesh. Not when your favorite girl’s lips were doing such mind numbing things to you.

Had you told your past self, even that of just an hour ago, that you would have allowed it to happen.. They would have laughed in your heated face. The past version of you would have sworn up and down, prayed up to the mysterious sky, that this would never happen. But now- now you have no room for denial or regret. Your mind was becoming too cloudy to house thoughts of shame, questions of if this was right. Because it felt right. The slick sound of Ellie’s mouth against you sounded right, as did your little huffs and puffs that you couldn't hide. The cramps had subsided in tandem with the tightening band in you. But you needed more, and you were gone past a point of being embarrassed to ask for it.

“I need..” you try to speak, but Ellie’s lips wrapping around your clit is the cause of the death of the forming words. A jolt of your hips is one finally strong enough to rupture the heavy hold of the vampire’s hand. Your lame attempt at a command did not go unheard by Ellie, who for the first time since this began, pulled herself away from your cunt. Her eyes darted up, looking to meet your own. But you were far too focused on something else. Her lips were glassy with your wetness, which she licked without a second thought. But the usual clear sheen that you had been no stranger to seeing on her face was more of a rosy color, a stark reminder of the reason this had begun in the first place. The slight tint of red smeared onto her chin, across the corners of her mouth, and it was oh so addicting to see. You felt no lingering shame, no shiver of disgust. Instead it made you feel even more desperate to have her against you again, but first you had to listen to her speaking. “Need what, babe?”

The urge to simply shove her face right back into your cunt flipped through the pages of scenarios in your head, but the moonlight that painted the side of your lover’s face, illuminating the red paintbrush stroke of you, had you a little too separate to risk such a bratty action.

“I need more, El. Need to cum,” you manage to whine, one light push of her head to prove your point. Ellie dipped her head down again, pressing small kisses to your sticky inner thighs. “Just love taking my time with you,” she muttered, a few more pecks planted on you were a search for forgiveness, one you graciously accepted with a loud moan when the lips finally found your clit again.

Ellie seemed to take your beg to heart, the hand that held your hip slowly dipping between your thighs. Her searching fingers met just below her chin, one long digit sliding over your slit, teasing the weeping hole with a slight press. The air feels like it has been punched from your lungs when the finger sinks into you, just as evil as her mouth as it curls into you the exact moment her lips suck a little harder. You were sure she was looking to torture you with how slowly the finger pumped in and out, working and exploring around your walls that gripped around her so tightly.

You had always heard the mythical vampire was sadistic. Ellie had never been much of that, but with ever slow movement into your aching cunt, you began to believe the whispers. Your head turned lightly to stare at the open window, the stars that dipped in the night sky were surely spotlighting your body splayed out on the bed, the auburn haired vampire between your thighs was quite the show for all the celestial beings up in the night air, every single being held its breath and watched on, you were sure of it. You didn't blame the stars, or the moon, or whatever else may have their attention focused on this tantalizing sight. If you could, you would float right out of your body to watch on yourself.

Surely you looked a mess, chest heaving with the heat of the air, with the heat of Ellie. Your limbs shook just lightly, your fingers knotted your companions hair, the messy pile of clothes on the floor, the red that painted her cheeks. Surely it would make your cheek turn bashfully if you could see it. Maybe this was sinful. The little dip into your rushing thoughts is ended with the raspy tone of Ellie’s voice.

“Relax, bunny. Gotta relax for me,” Ellie cooed against you, a few more languid presses into your cunt causing you to finally loosen around her, coupled by the continuing ministrations from her mouth on your clit. Soone another finger joins the mix, the large fingers stretching you just right. She reaches spots that have you remembering the stars you had just seen behind the black of your squeezed shut eyes, a pathetic cry falling from your lips. This reaction only encourages her to continue, the pace of her suckles and thrusts into you speed up. It's harsher everytime she plunges into you, your hips moving lightly with the pure force.

“That’s my girl, there you go,” she compliments after a long moan, the words causing another clench around her fingers. You let out another string of incoherent whines and moans, grinding down into her messy face and fingers. Somewhere in the back of your mind you cursed yourself and Ellie for the certainly ruined bedspread under your ass, but it seems like the much smaller issue when you had *this* to focus on. You were nearing your peak, and it was no secret. Your grinds against Ellie became sloppy, ununiformed and more needy than before. No words could form on your tongue, only whimpers and unintelligible begs.

The vampire never lets up, curling her fingers, your walls clenching. her teeth grazed against your clit lightly enough to have you trembling, whining softly. She knows your body as well as you do, every small sign you were reaching the final moments before your world would explode. She knew what moves of her fingers would have your legs shaking, knew where to press, how hard to go. She was no stranger to making you cum, and she definitely was on the mission to make it happen now. Her free hand grips your thigh, pushing you even more impossibly open for her, fingers pressing into you harshly enough to draw another cry. She readjusts slightly, sinking even deeper into your folds. “C’mon,” Ellie whispers, the word slightly broken, shaky and pleading. Pleading as if she needed you to come as much as you did.

Maybe she did, because the moment your back arched, a near pornographic moan filling the heavy air, spilling out of the window and swirling against the peeping eyes of the stars and moon, she moaned with you. Her fingers still within you as you gushed around her, her lips still pressed to your clit. But as your thighs shook, she slid the fingers out and replaced them with her tongue again. The pink muscle flattened against your slit again like it had earlier, this time with no attempt at going slow.

If anything, she was ravenous. Every drop your pulsing center gifted her, she sucked down like she needed it, ignoring your desperate whines of overstimulation. You attempted lamely to press her head away with the hand still tangled in her scalp, but it was no use. The pleasure of her tongue was much too overwhelming to fight.

After a moment that felt like hours, she pulled away. Her tongue licked over her lips again, collecting the rosy colored cum from where it smudged there. Her eyes stayed on your own blinking irises as her fingers raised to her already messy lips. They were coated with the same mixture of red and clear shining wetness, and she sunk them into her mouth with a moan. The debautchary that took place in front of your eyes should have your stomach queasy, should have your legs closing and pressing far away from Ellie.

But of course it doesn't, instead you watch on with morbid curiosity, watching her tongue curl around her fingers, sucking the last bits of you, leaving a glistening layer of her own spit behind. She found no shame in this situation, no shame in drinking down evey single thing you would give her, so why should you?

“Fuck,” you breathe, eyes transfixed on the fingers as they fall from her lips and down to her lap, her eyes back on your own. She makes a move to crawl over you, arms locking you in from either side.

“Just got a taste of you bunny,” she mumbles, nudging her head into the crook of your neck.

Her lips pressed there, and this time you could feel her fangs under the plump fat of her lip. “Gonna let me have more?” she questioned.

Of course you would, of course you did. As you tilted your neck for her, the curtain to the side of you blew in the wind, and you closed your eyes.

“Yes.”

#vampire!ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams smut

[astermath]

hiya! i’m a really big fan of your stranger things work and I was wondering, if youre comfortable of course, a steve x reader period imagine where reader tried to hide their period from Steve, but he finds out and is super fluffy and sweet about it? thank you!

HAHAH wow i have let this ask stew in my inbox since last year thats CRAZY im so sorry my dear,, i was going through old asks and i rlly like this prompt actually so here u go, i hope u enjoy!!!!

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

tags: established relationship, obv mentions of periods / menstruation, reader is referred to as female, steve being dense at first lol, regular sized font below!

wc: 1.4K

notes: while the reader in this fic is female, i am well aware not everyone who has a period is a girl, and not everyone who's a girl has a period!

Steve is one attentive boyfriend.

It’s the early stages of your relationship, the golden era, the honeymoon phase. And while you’re a still a bit nervous about it all, you couldn’t be happier, because he does it all right.

He knows your favourite snacks, what music you like, what makes you laugh, what makes you cry. He’s starting to figure out your ins and outs, and it’s almost crazy how quickly he’s catching on. You have no reason to feel judged by him at any point, he truly is comfort poured into the shape of a person.

So then why are you staring at your phone right now, struggling to dial his number and just tell him why you can’t make it to your date?

It’s not usually this bad, at least it hadn’t been for a while, so why now, of all moments, must you be forsaken to be terrorised by your period?

You bite your lip, laying flat onto your bed, hand over your lower stomach. It's right where the pain is just gnawing at you, just like the guilt is. But you know you’d feel even guiltier if you just stood him up, he doesn’t deserve that. You sit up, a tad slowly to save yourself from another cramp, and swallow your nerves for now.

“I’ll just… Tell him I’m sick. Yeah… Yeah I can do that.” You think to yourself.

The combination of his number had started to feel natural to your fingers now, unlike how anxiously you pressed the buttons the first time, triple checking before finally pressing call. You're triple checking again now, more so because you're not sure you can handle hearing the defeat in his voice when you tell him you can't make it.

The phone barely gets a moment to ring before he picks it up, and his all too familiar sweet voice comes through the device.

"Hey babe, everything okay over there?"

You pause a moment before replying. "How did you know it was me calling?"

"Lover's intuition." He chuckles, and it makes your heart flutter. It's not fair how easy it is for him to do that to you, but you enjoy it nonetheless. "So, what's going on?"

"I, uh..." God, getting the words out is like pulling teeth. But you'd rather die than let him think you just got cold feet about your movie date. "I'm really not feeling too well right now, Steve... I'm-- I'm so sorry, I'm gonna have to cancel for tonight." Your eyes are welling up with tears before he even gets a chance to reply, just imagining his pretty face losing its bright expression when hearing your unfortunate news.

"Oh," damnit, he does sound sad, "that's okay, uhm... Is there anything I can do? What kinda sick is it?"

Shit, he's gonna make you say it, isn't he? You know Steve is a mature guy, he knows about periods, knows how they work, but you've been told to suck it up and get on with it before... A part of you is still disappointed that you just can't.

"U-Uhm... It's more like, a stomach thing, I guess?" It's the best way you can put it for now, hoping it'll put his worries to rest.

"Okay, I see..." You can nearly hear him thinking, the subtle noise of bags being moved and a fridge being opened coming through the phone. "Uh, how aboouuut... I come over to yours, and we just watch a movie at home? I still got a couple of tapes we haven't gotten to, and I can bring some light snacks that won't upset your stomach too much."

The thought of Steve caring for you while you're sick sends a warm feeling through your entire body. God, how does he just keep getting better? But you can't lie to him, right? It's not like you're really sick, unless you count the curse of menstruation as a symptom.

Before you get a chance to explain, he's talking again, and by the ruckus in the background you can only guess he's rushing to grab all his stuff. "I'll be heading out in a bit, I'll stop by the corner store too, stay put for me alright? See ya in a bit!"

You're sure he didn't realize he wasn't letting you talk, but frankly, you probably couldn't even come up with a response on time anyways. Right now, you just have to worry about looking somewhat presentable, and maybe figure out a way to tell him you're not actually sick.

By the time you've brushed your hair and brushed some mascara onto your lashes, you're already hearing the doorbell. You just manage to pull a fresh shirt over your head, before stumbling down the stairs and stopping in front of the door. With a deep, loaded, sigh you open it, to reveal your boyfriend.

Hair messed up, plastic bag in hand, jacket haphazardly thrown on. He clearly rushed to be here, still panting a little, but in your eyes, he's the image of your guardian angel, your saviour in need.

Before either of you know it, you're crying again, your freshly applied mascara now leaving thin black streaks over your cheeks. Your hands go up to cover your face, embarrassed, not even sure why you're sobbing all of a sudden. The feelings just hit you like a freight train, rocking you before you even have a time to rationalize.

Steve's expression falters, the bag he had in hand dropping to the floor in an instant, stepping in closer so he can carefully wrap his arms around you and pull you to his chest. Not too tight, he doesn't want to startle you. He's a bit distraught; he's really only seen you cry at a sad movie scene before, so he's a bit unsure as to what's caught you to be so upset right now.

"I-I'm sorry..." you manage to mutter through your incoherent sobs and sniffs, effectively ruining the front of his shirt in the process.

"Hey, hey..." His big hands go up to your face, gently cupping your wettened cheeks as he looks into your teary eyes. Hell, the image of you is almost enough to make him break too. "What're you sorry for? You can't help it that you're sick, right?"

The reminder of your lie makes you want to break eye contact in shame, but it's hard to force yourself to lose sight of that soft, caring gaze of his.

"I," sniff, "I lied, I'm so sorry Steve, I-- I'm not sick, I just... I have..."

He watches you expectedly, not upset, just curious. You'd surely have your reasons if whatever caused you to cancel is making you this upset.

"I'm... I'm just on my period and it-- it hurts really bad, it's not even usually this bad, and I felt like I was overreacting and I feel so bad and--" Your ramble gets cut short by his chuckle, the same one that nearly caused you to melt over the phone earlier.

"W-Wha... Why are you laughing?" You're not sure if you should be happy or worried, you're already experiencing so much at once, it's hard to pick one emotion to feel.

"Nothing, it's just, well," he picks up the bag he dropped, opening it slightly to show the bars of chocolate, candy and your favorite chips inside. "I had a feeling."

The sight of it makes you snap out of your state of distress, and you can’t help but crack a smile through your tears. “Seriously? How?”

He shrugs, a sheepish smile adorning his face. “I told you, lover’s intuition.” He pulls you back to him and kisses your head. “There’s another bag in the car with chicken soup in case I was wrong.”

You both laugh, just hugging on your doorstep for a moment. You have to let it sink in, that maybe Steve just is that sweet and considerate of a guy.

“D’you wanna go inside, or does standing outside help with cramps?” He pulls back a little, and you fight the urge to poke him in the ribs for his sarcasm. You love it either way.

“Yeah, let’s go inside. We can watch When Harry Met Sally and I can cry my eyes out again. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.”

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#tysm for the ask! #stevemath #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington writing #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington comfort #serpentwithatardis #aster replies

[lokis-army-77]

A New Purchase

Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 1.6k

When you come home only to discover your boyfriend has bought something completely ridiculous.

Warning: 18+. p in v, riding.

Here's the little thing we talked about the other day @munson-blurbs @lofaewrites @chrissymjstan @hellfire--cult (it isn't as good as I think it could be but oh well)

Masterlist

Eddie was almost giddy with excitement when he saw the Facebook marketplace posting. The aluminum body was a bit rusted and the inside fabric was also questionably stained but hey it was a decoration for three hundred dollars and local pickup, hell yes, he was buying it. 

The only thing Eddie didn’t realize was that it wasn’t a small decoration. No…  it was real and he had no clue where he was going to store it until Halloween. Then came the brilliant idea of testing it out. He only wanted to know what it would be like to lie there, how comfortable would it be?

That’s how you came to find Eddie lying in a casket in the middle of your living room.

Walking through the door you stop suddenly, as the small walkway between the wall and the back of the couch is blocked. Eddie is lying there, eyes closed and hands crossed over his chest. 

“Eddie, what the fuck are you doing?” 

He can’t help the grin that paints his once stoic features. He squints open his eyes as he begins to laugh. “I’m testing out my new purchase. Do you like it?”

You sigh and whip your hand over your face, shaking your head. “What on Earth possessed you to buy a casket? Wait, hang on, where did you buy a casket?”

He sits up, resting an arm on the side, and goes into his explanation. “You are never gonna believe it, fucking Facebook Marketplace. It was so cheap and to be honest I thought it was a fake one that would have been maybe a foot or two tall but nope. Imagine my surprise when I get to this guy's house and he rolls this baby out. He slaps the side panel for emphasis. He even threw in the church trucks for free so it would be really easy to move around.”

You just chuckle and shake your head. “Okay, then why did you buy it?”

“I figured we could use it to decorate for Halloween and also because when I saw it was actually real I just had to test it out. Take it for a test drive before I actually do kick the bucket.” He said it so seriously like it was the most obvious reason in the world.

“Eddie, really?”

“Oh, come on babe, like you’ve never thought about laying down in one of these bad boys.” 

“Contrary to what you might believe, no, no I haven't.” 

Eddie reaches out then, making a child-like gesture of opening and closing his hand. You walk forward and curl your fingers around his. “Switch places with me, see how it feels.”

“No, I’m not getting in there.” You laugh.

“Why not? Do you really want the first time you experience this to be when you’re dead? You won’t even know if it's uncomfortable or not.” He pulls you forward even more. 

“Eddie no-”

“Come on… If you won’t switch then get in with me.” 

You give in, sighing playfully as you bend down and crawl into the cramped casket. Eddie tries his best to shift over so you have space, but the area inside is only so big and definitely was never intended for two.

You both are laughing when your knee suddenly loses its steadiness, atop the thin, almost non-existent padding layered over the metal bottom, and slides out from under you and you fall on top of Eddie’s chest with an “oomph”.  You look up and you catch a glint in his eye as they darken just a bit. 

It’s a familiar look, one that he has given you so many times no matter the situation or surroundings. A look that he knows you will give into. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” You plead with him, knowing where this will end. 

Eddie looks at you, eyebrows raised in faux confusion. “I’m not looking at you in any particular way, Sweetheart.”

You slap his chest playfully. “Eddie you are giving me your ‘I want sex’ eyes and I am not going to, not here.”

“Baby,” He wines. “Come on. It’ll be sexy. We could even role-play as vampires.” 

“No-”

“Please.” Eddie reaches his hand to cup your cheek, pleading softly as he brings his face closer to yours. You are trying to fight it but you know you can’t and Eddie knows too. As soon as he looked at you with those sultry brown eyes, you were plyant in his grasp.

When his lips press into yours, you sigh, relaxing into him. Your fingers curl into his shirt and you inch up, caging his hips between your thighs. It hasn’t even been thirty seconds from when the kiss started and you can already feel him hardening under you. 

Pulling away, you mumble into him, lips barely touching. “Does it really turn you on thinking of fucking here?” 

Eddie nods and surges forward to reconnect your mouths. His tongue flits past your lips and finds its way inside, caressing your own. 

You're barely-there resolve crumbles as you begin to roll your hips into him. You can feel his hard length as you grind, his breath catches in his throat. 

"Fuck baby," he mumbles against your lips.  "Need to feel you around me."

There is a heat coursing through you, clouding your mind as your fingers begin to unbutton his pants. 

Eddie is eager, his hips press up into your hands, pushing you to free him faster. The blue cotton of his boxers has turned a deeper color in a small spot where the head of his cock rests, the precum there being soaked up by the cloth. 

You slide a nail up his covered shaft and a great shiver overtakes his body under you. "Don't tease me- please."

A chuckle bubbles out of you. "But that's the fun part." 

Eddie just whimpers in response. 

You begin pushing your fingers past the elastic waistband. You pull the fabric down and bring your other hand up to help situate both his pants and boxers down to his mid-thigh.

His cock springs forward and you can't help the feeling of absolute lust coursing through your veins. You need him inside you, now. 

You silently thank your past self for deciding to wear a dress today. In your need, you don't think you would be able to wrangle yourself out of a pair of pants. 

Firmly you take Eddie's cock into your hand. He hisses at the new pressure you ar editing him. 

"Fuck baby, just like that." His hips jump into your touch. 

"Gonna let me fuck myself on you? Gonna let me take what I want?"

Eddie only nods. Words have left him as he stares into your sultry gaze. 

You begin to stroke him, up and down, spreading the stickiness leaking from his tip with your thumb. 

Then, you begin to scoot up his body. Hovering over him. Eddie watches in awe as you take him up in one hand and move your panties over with the other. A slow moan releases itself from your as you begin to sink down on him.

Eddie's cock was perfect. It always felt so good to be wearied around him, his head pushing deeper into you. 

Both of your breathing is labored. You try to keep yourself calm, you don't want to rush into riding him, you want to take your time making each of you feel wonderful. Eddie. On the other hand, is trying not to combust as he lays there and watches.

The way your dress is hiked up around your beautifully, thick thighs, how his cock disappears into you, surrounded by a curly thatch of hair. 

God he loved you. It was the only way to explain why his heart was beating out his chest. 

You groan as you feel him entering you. There is a slight burn as you stretch around him. Slowly, you begin to move your hips. Eddie starts to make choked noises and his hands reach out to grab you. His fingers grip your hips, helping you grind into him. Your own hands grasp at his covered stomach. 

There was an ache building as you moved. Low in the depth of your stomach and it began to grow. The more you fucked yourself onto Eddie the more the ache was felt. IT had you clenching down around him. You cunt milking his cock of everything he could give you.  

Eddie’s hands caress your body. When his fingertips touch skin, it's like an electric shock goes through you. 

“Eddie-” You moan.

“I know, love.” He mummers. 

“Can feel you so deep.” You grind harder, shivering as your clit rubs against his pubic bone. “Need more.”

“Yeah? Take it, baby, take anything you want.” 

You catch Eddie’s hands and guide them up under your dress and to your breasts. 

He hums in approval as he pushes your bra down and begins to play with your nipples, pinching and pulling them slightly.

Your head lolls to the side, hair falling down around you. It’s taking so much energy for you to keep moving. Your legs are beginning to tire out, there is a sting in your muscles. Your knees are screaming at you as they dig into the not-so-comfortable foam at the bottom of the casket. 

Body becoming rigid, you cry out, moaning Eddie’s name loudly into the living room. Your fingers cling to him as your body caves into him. You can no longer keep moving so Eddie begins bucking his hips into yours, helping you to ride out this high and bring him to his own. 

Eddie lets you fall almost completely on top of him once he’s finished. His arms wrap around you, your breaths in sync with the other. 

As you rest your forehead on Eddie’s chest, you feel the tiny movement of him jerking. He’s trying not to laugh. 

You crane your neck to look up at him. “What?” 

He shakes his head. 

“Eddie.” 

“Nothing, just that we fucked in a casket.” His smile was as wide as could be,

You let your head fall and you laugh into his chest. “Don’t get used to it.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #female reader

[randofics]

Being able to reach where the bots can't

The men on base couldn't pull something out of Optimus's engine block. It was deep inside, wedged in the cables and framework. Without thinking, you offered to try removing it. They stepped aside, and you slipped underneath Optimus's bumper. The men watched incredulously as your body disappeared inside the engine space. You wriggled between the frame and the giant engine with a small light clenched in your teeth.

Your body pressed into the warm metal around you as you searched. When you spotted the offending piece of debris. You ever so gently twisted and coaxed it out of where it had been wedged. You felt him shake around you when it popped free. Dropping it to the concrete below with a clang, you wriggled your way out. Your clothes and hands had stripes of smudged grease and other remnants of vehicle fluids all over.

You popped your back after you slid out from under him and patted his hood. "Good to go, Optimus."

He'd never admit it, but having you pressed against the inside of his engine space felt... well, it made him feel things, to say the least. He thanked you, of course. It was the gentlemanly thing to do, but the thoughts running through his processor would've made him blush if he were able to.

-------

Crosshairs could feel that something was off as he moved. Almost like when humans get a stitch or muscle cramp. You noticed him moving to try and free whatever may be stuck or out of place. "Hey, Cross you, alright?" He looked up as he was feeling under his chest panels. "Something feels off, but I can't tell what or where it is."

"Can you transform? Maybe I can find it." He did as asked, transforming. "Where can you feel it in this form?"

"My engine space as far as I can tell." He pops his hood, and with a small flashlight, you look over parts of his engine block that are visible but can't see anything out of place. You lean over the side, looking between the frame and block. Something blue catches your eye, and you bend over, slipping your hand into the small gap. You feel Something wet and remove your arm to look at your fingers. Drops of blue enerjon color your skin and you hiss. "Looks like something cut one of your cables. Not all the way through, but you are leaking some enerjon. I can help stop the bleeding with some electrical tape if you want?"

"Please do. It can take a while for cables to seal on their own." You grabbed the electrical tape and practically climbed into his engine to reach the cable deep inside. Your chest and face were pressed into his engine so you could reach. As gently as you could, you wrapped up the leaking cable. Pushing up into a sitting position on your knees, you breathed a sigh of relief. "Just come get me when it feels like it's sealed up."

You closed his hood and walked back to do whatever you'd been doing beforehand. He watched your hips sway as you left. The feeling of your hands on his cables and block lingered long after you left, and he couldn't help the shiver that ran down his back strut.

-------

Bumblebee could've sworn he felt something in his undercarriage as he was driving with you to run an errand. When he ran over a bump, it stuck him like a thorn. He spoke his concerns over the radio, and you offered to take a look when you got back to base.

Later, you had him drive up onto a pair of car ramps. With his undercarriage exposed, you slid underneath him to search for anything that could be problematic. Nothing in his front half stuck out to you, so you slid further back, and almost at his rear axel, you spotted something shiny and out of place. It was lodged in the crack around his gas tank. "Bee, I found it! I'll try to pull it free, but you can't move, ok?" A beep and wirr was all you got in response, so you took it as an ok.

Lightly, you touch the underside of his tank, and he shakes at the contact. Your other hand grips the edge of the metal object and gives it a light tug. It shifts a bit but doesn't pop free. With more force, you tug and wiggle the piece, and it pops free. Bee jumps an inch but stays on the ramps, and you slide out from under him. A deep male voice from an old show speaks over his radio. "Thank you, love, you're a life saver!"

You give him a pat on the hood and examine the metal in your hand. "Looks like a piece of tin roofing. Good thing it didn't cut any cables or your tires."

The feeling of your hands on his undercarriage stayed for a while after you left. He wondered what it would be like to have you wash him by hand rather than going through the wash station at the base.

-------

Ratchet lost an important piece of the machine he was working on in a crack just small enough that his didgets couldn't slip through. He would've had Arcee help him, but she was still out on patrol. He looked over to you, sleeping on the couch. You were the only human on base at the moment, and he really needed that piece. Reluctantly, he walked over to the raised platform and called your name a few times.

You stirred and turned over to sleepily look at him. "Mmh, I'm up. What is it?" You stretch and yawn while still laying down. "I apologize for waking you, but I need your assistance with something." Standing you rub your eyes to clear them. He takes you in his servos and places you on the floor before the gap in the wall. Looking up at him questioningly, he finally tells you what's going on.

With him shining a light into the gap, you slip through all the way till your wide hips stop you from going further. The piece is thankfully within reach, and you just have to angle yourself to grab it. Your rear stuck out in full view, and he tried looking away, but his gaze kept slipping back to you as you reached for the object.

When you stood up holding the object in hand, he picked you up and placed you on the platform again. He thanked you but couldn't look you in the eye. You smiled up at him, none the wiser of the thoughts running through his processor.

#fanfic #transformers x reader #transformers fanfiction #imagine #optimus x reader #bumblebee x reader #crosshairs x reader #ratchet x reader

[buckys-metal-arm]

Comfort

Bucky x GN!Reader

Description: three instances of Bucky associating someone stroking his hair with comfort.

Warnings: fluff and angst, mentions of illness, period-accurate toxic masculinity, mentions of nightmares, no y/n used, only pronoun used is "you"

A/N: this is based on something I wrote for my self indulgent self-insert OC Juniper, where Bucky tells them the story of the first two memories and then decided I wanted to also do an x Reader with a similar idea.

-------------------------------------------------------

1930

One time, when Bucky was young, he was hit with an awful bout of illness. He felt like there was a hundred pound weight on his chest, and he couldn’t stop coughing. Steve kept trying to sneak in to go see his friend, but would be shooed away before he could actually see his friend. Rebecca, Bucky’s little sister, would slip notes from her and Steve under his door as often as she could, trying to remind him he wasn’t alone. One night, when his sickness got real bad, his mother came in to sit up with him. Since it was the Depression, she would be up pretty much every night working on sewing alterations until her fingers cramped and bled. But tonight, she was staying with her Baby Boy. She rubs Vick’s on his chest in hopes of soothing the cough, and sits by his bedside. When Bucky’s coughing gets so bad that he can’t fall asleep, she sits on the mattress next to him, running their fingers through his hair until he falls asleep. She saw how much it soothed him, and from then on whenever he was sick she would stay with him, running her fingers through her son’s hair to calm him. 

1942

Bucky was an adult now, dressed in a soldier’s uniform and trying to pretend he was proud of that. He’d just gotten home from the Stark Expo, and found that his mother and sister had stayed up to wait for him. Rebecca hugs her brother goodbye before heading to bed, but Bucky and Winnefred stay up late talking. During the conversation everything hits him at once. He’d spent the entire day forcing a smile and pretending to be brave, being strong in front of his date, of Steve, of anyone who saw him and saw a young man ready to take on the world and fight for his country. 

When in reality?

 He’s been terrified ever since he learned he was drafted. 

He broke down in front of his mother, telling her that he’s not ready, that he’s scared, and that he hates that he’s scared. That he’s a coward. But his mother shakes her head, and hugs her son tight. She doesn’t tell him to “man up” or that he needs to “get ahold of himself”, just held him and assured him that it’s okay, that he’s not a coward, that he’s not weak for being afraid. She took him back to his bedroom, getting him settled under the covers and sitting at his bedside, stroking his hair the same way she did when he was young. 

“Rest now, James,” she whispered, brushing his hair out of his eyes, “you don’t have to be strong tonight…” 

Now

Bucky woke up screaming, drenched in sweat. He tried to take deep breaths, to calm himself down, but the nightmares that had forced him awake still ravaged his subconscious. 

“Bucky?” He whipped around to see you, eyes tired but still filled with concern, “are you alright, Baby?” 

“Yeah,” he gasped out, running a hand through his hair, “yeah, yeah, I'm…I-I’m…” 

“Oh,” you cooed, wrapping your arms around him and laying your head on his back, “oh Sweetheart…” 

You hugged him close, and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. 

“Can you feel my breath?” You asked, running your fingers along his stomach. Bucky nodded, “good, Buck. Can you follow my breathing?” 

He matched your breaths as best he can, and you held him until he calmed down. Once his breathing evened out, you pressed another kiss to the crook of his neck and smiled softly. 

“What do you need to feel better, Sweet Boy?” You asked, “what do you need to go back to sleep?” 

Bucky chewed his lip for a moment, trying to decide. His mind drifted to his youth, to his mother carding her fingers through his hair and the feeling of serenity it brought him. 

“M-my hair,” he murmured. You looked confused, “will you stroke my hair for a bit?” 

He didn't give you a chance to respond. 

“Sorry,” Bucky's blue eyes wouldn't meet theirs, “that sounds stupid, but my Ma used to do it when I was younger but–” 

“Shhhh,” you slid in front of him, “it's not stupid. Of course I'll stroke your hair.” 

His blue eyes met yours, relief flooding his gaze. 

“Lay back down, Sweetheart,” he settled himself on top of you, laying his head on your chest and listening to your heartbeat. You cradled his head against your body, running your fingers through his dark hair. His eyes were already starting to feel heavy, and he nuzzled into your neck, a little hum escaping him.

“Get some rest, Bucky,” you pressed a kiss to the top of his head as he started to give in to sleep, “I love you.” 

The same feeling of serenity overtook him, and Bucky drifted off in his partner's arms.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #bucky fanfic #mcu bucky barnes

[hopelesslonelyghost]

poly!141 where the five of you go out for drinks and on the walk back to the car your heel gets stuck in a grate and when you try to pull it out it does not budge.

all the guys are laughing and poking fun at you. you huff and say “have at it!” and then hop over to a nearby bench and sit there with your arms crossed.

first attempt was johnny. he cracks his fingers and says, “watch an’ learn, lass.” and then proceeds to struggle to free your heel. after about like 5 minutes of trying he gets up, scratches his head and is like “uhhhh ah tried🧍”

one by one, you watch them all have a turn and twisting and turning and pulling, trying to get your heel to come out. but it just won’t.

you TRIED to hold in your laughter. you really did. but witnessing four of the strongest soldiers you know sorely losing against a stuck heel just has you in stitches. clutching your stomach, wheezing and laughing so hard you have to rub your back bc it’s cramping.

and then simon is like “fuckin’ hell!” and gives one last tug and breaks your heel.

and now you’re kinda sad bc you actually really liked them. and now you’re like “soooo how am i supposed to walk now?”

and johnny just shrugs, strides over to you, grabs your arm, yanks you up and uses that momentum to sling you over his shoulder.

you squeak and immediately go to pull the hem of your already very short dress down.

“johnny my ass is out!”

“meh, der’s no one bu’ us, lass. ‘sides, it’s not somethin’ we haven’t seen before.”

you pout.

simon just ruffles your hair and says something along of the lines of taking you to get a new pair.

kyle and john just laugh at the leftover piece of heel still fucking stuck.

“next time we carry you, yeah love?”

“sod off!”

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #soap x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #cod x reader #simon riley #johnny mactavish #kyle garrick #john price #cod mw #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #poly 141 x reader #fluff #crack wip

[strangersmunsons]

Eddie, My Love! eddie munson x reader // valentine's day special series Day 7 Prompt: Sharing a Bath 🫧 ~ 1,200 words Eddie runs a bath for the two of you to share.

“This is a little bit cramped, don’t you think?”

Eddie’s settled back against one end of the tub, the picture of ease, while you sit awkwardly between his spread legs. You’re positioned stiffly upright, the simmering water skimming the underside of your breasts, unsure of how to enjoy the bath that your boyfriend so sweetly drew up for the two of you to enjoy. It’s not that you’re unappreciative, not at all, but he’s never done something like this for you before — no one has. The unexpected gesture has you more than a little flustered.

He smiles lazily, and flicks a bit of soapy water at you. “You just gotta relax, baby. Here,” he says, reaching out with his tattooed arms and grasping at your sides, “lean back.”

Eddie shifts your body so that your back is pressed to his chest, and your legs rest against his, two pairs of limbs both bent gently at the knee. His large hands squeeze your shoulders, gently massaging the skin, before traveling further down and stroking your stomach. “Just take a deep breath,” he whispers in your ear, then presses a small kiss to the corner of your jaw. “This is s’posed to be romantic, y’know.” 

He really did go all out. There are a number of white pillar candles placed on the lip of the tub, filling the tiny room with soft, yellow light. He even bought a bottle of bath oil, something vaguely vanilla-y but not overly sweet, which he poured into the water uncertainly, neither of you really used to using a product that feels so luxurious. The old record player he keeps on on his dresser in the bedroom is spinning an Otis Redding album, the late singer’s throaty voice floating across the short distance to the bathroom, talking about those arms of his.

“It is,” you assure him. You pick up one of his hands — naked without the usual bulky rings — and kiss the palm before lacing your fingers with his. “Thank you for doing this.”

He nuzzles into your neck, nosing at the damp skin. “No need to thank me,” he murmurs. “Just wanted to do something special for my girl.”

Heat prickles the apples of your cheeks, and you have a feeling it’s nothing to do with the temperature of the water. 

“I love you, Eddie.”

“I love you too, baby.”

You sit in silence for a few minutes, simply enjoying one another’s closeness. Then Eddie slides you both forward so he can sink lower into the tub, tipping his head back so his curly locks are fully submerged, all the way up to his hairline. When he sits back up he casts you a wicked smile, running a hand through his soaked hair. 

Your breath catches. He looks so pretty like this, water beading up like jewels on his inked skin, normally-wild hair smoothed out of his face. He quickly pulls you back into him again, cheek pressed against yours. You sigh at the feeling.

“I should’ve brought wine,” he says abruptly, breaking the dreamy quietude. “Hang on.”

Eddie releases you and stands up, sloshing water over the side of the tub and onto the floor, soaking the bathmat; rivulets of water pour off of him and drip onto you. He braces himself by placing a hand on top of your head — you bow slightly beneath the unexpected pressure — and steps carefully out of the bath.

The water is suddenly much lower without Eddie there to displace it; you stretch out to keep as much of your body underneath the water as you can. 

Eddie, foregoing a towel, pads nude down the hallway, out of sight.

You shake your head in wonder.

There’s a loud crash in the kitchen, and a sharp yelp of pain.

Oh Lord. “Eddie?” you call out, immediately panicked. Rising up out of the bath yourself, you yank your bathrobe from off the hook over the door and slip it on, the furry fabric sticking weirdly to your wet skin, rushing through the house and into the kitchen.

Eddie Munson, your Teddy, your man, the love of your life, is lying spread-eagle on the middle of the floor, staring dazedly up at the ceiling in a pool of red liquid.

Your heart stops, hand flying up to cover your mouth. “Oh my God!”

Eddie raises an arm halfway-up from the floor, motioning for you to stay back. “Don’t come in,” he warns, sounding agitated. “Broken glass.”

The wine.

Sure enough, when you take a longer look, you spy the shattered bottle lying in pieces atop the dark puddle you mistook for blood, shards glittering and treacherous. 

You tiptoe into the room anyway, despite what he tells you. Kneeling down beside him, your hands flutter about, not sure what to do for him. “Are you okay?”

He heaves himself into an upright position. “I think so,” he tells you, face creased in pain. He heaves a petulant sigh. “I slipped.”

You nod slowly. “I figured you must’ve.”

“And I dropped the wine.”

“I can see that.”

You bite your lip against it, try and stifle it best you can, but a hysterical giggle escapes from you anyway. You cover your face with both your hands, turning away — God, you hate to laugh at him when he’s in pain, but the thought of him slipping like a cartoon character on a banana peel all while butt-naked is too much for you. 

“Hey! I could have died!” 

You peek at him through your fingers, relieved to see that he’s laughing, too.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” you apologize, wrapping your arms around him. “But you look so silly. Couldn’t you have dried off a little, first, or thrown a towel on?”

He frowns at you. “Why should I have to? This is my house. A man can walk around naked in his own house if he wants to. It’s my God-given right.”

You pat his shoulder comfortingly. “Whatever you say, dear. Can you stand?”

You help him to his feet, making sure he’s steady. “I’m okay, really,” he reassures you. “It’ll take more than a little tumble to put me out of commission.” He thumps his chest with his fist. “Can we get back in the tub now? I’m cold.” Little goosebumps are prickled all over his still-wet skin, and he shivers in the cool air. 

“You go ahead, I’ll get this cleaned up.” You move to grab some paper towels, and the broom and dust pan, but Eddie embraces you tightly in his arms before you can begin, making you squeal.

He forcibly walks the two of you back down the hallway, leaving the mess behind. “That can wait. Let’s get back in there before the water gets cold.”

“You’re really somethin’, you know that?”

“Spending the night in the hospital with a smashed tailbone isn’t on my Valentine’s Day agenda, sweetheart. So get your ass back in the tub.”

thank you for reading!! xoxo Valentine's Day Special Masterlist

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader

[omi-boshi]

period cramps and a little bit of pining

your best friend omi comes over to take care of you during your period

tags: no plot just gratuitous fluff and yearning word count: 2.2k

through the haziness that comes from just waking up, you hear the muffled sound of knocking, followed by the click of the door unlocking. you poke your head out from under the covers, curious. the sound of footsteps and rustling just outside your bedroom door fill the space and truthfully, you should be more worried that a stranger has seemingly broken into your apartment. however, the lack of angry growling from your sweet great pyrenees and screams of bloody murder from the stranger soothe the concern that tries its damnest to rise above your grogginess. you stay quiet, curled up on your side, head still peeking out. the continuing muffled sounds almost lulling you to sleep, your eyes falling close. that's how kiyoomi finds you.

he pushes the bedroom door open. quietly, he pads over to the bed and crouches just beside where he can see your face. the concerned furrow between his brows softens slightly as he takes in your sleepy form. he debates waking you up, not wanting to disturb the sleep you're finally getting after a night dealing with cramps of the worst kind. he wishes nothing more than to indulge you as he always does but as your closest friend, he knows you have yet to get up and eat. and that takes priority. cautiously, he runs his fingers through your hair and down your cheek which you turn into, seeking the warmth radiating from his skin. the subconscious action disarms kiyoomi. he has to fight through the thumping in his heart to call your name until you finally start waking up. he watches as you rouse from your sleep, grumbling through the whole motion. it tugs a small smile up his lips. your eyes flutter open and the seconds that follow are punctuated by the stillness of the air as you stare up at him, slowly processing his presence. your eyes travel up his figure. the mask dangling from his right ear. the hoodie he wears — the one you usually steal from him. the fuzzy socks you got him for Christmas. the worn sweatpants you've told him many times to replace and yet he never does because it looks fine, you remember him arguing at some point. the memory of it makes you smile. your gaze trails to the soft curve of his lips, the moles partially covered by his damp messy hair — he must have showered before he came from practice — before finally landing on his eyes that quietly watch you. "hi," you finally whisper in what feels like eons. voice scratchy from disuse. "hey, sleepy head," he says just as softly, mirth coloring his tone. "what are you doing here?" "you texted me last night. did you forget?" you hum in confusion, sitting up slowly and pulling your arm from under the covers to look for your phone.

to omi!!! :] Yesterday 10:43 PM

omiii com e over tmrw :((( - from omi!!! :] Yesterday 10:44 PM

You okay? - from omi!!! :] Yesterday 10:44 PM

I have practice in the morning but I can come over after. Is that alright?

- to omi!!! :] Yesterday 11:07 PM

that work s yes!!! and im okya, just kinda in pain and loopy from the meds and sticky ;-; - to omi!!! :] Yesterday 11:07 PM

everything hurts n i cant sleep on my back but it's ok see u tmrw! - from omi!!! :] Yesterday 11:08 PM

It's that time, huh? - from omi!!! :] Yesterday 11:08 PM

Get some rest. I'll be there as soon as I can.

"oh," you mumble, as you scroll through your messages. "i thought I was dreaming." you put your phone down to look kiyoomi in the eyes, a tilt to your head. "i'm glad you actually came though." kiyoomi breathes in deeply, heart thumping so loud — at this point he's sure you can hear it. but of course, you are none the wiser as you continue peering down at him, sleepy smile on your face.

"of course, i would." he returns the smile. “anyway, i didn’t know what you wanted since you didn’t reply to me all morning.” he pulls out a paper bag that was sitting behind him. “so, i just got a bit of everything.” in your curiosity, you sit up straighter to look at the bag kiyoomi has brought. he starts pulling out its contents and showing them off to you with a dorky grin that grows the more items he shows you. there were donuts, churros, chocolates, cookies, mochi, bread of all variations, and a singular bottle of the tea drink you've been raving to him about the past month. "kiyoomi!" you yell, doubling over in laughter. "i can't eat all of this!" "well, good thing there's two of us," he rolls his eyes, grin still on his face. "in my defense, i didn't know what to get." which is a lie. sort of. because everything he got were things you mentioned craving the days leading up to this week. not that you needed to know that of course. "you'd ruin your diet for me, omi?" you pout, eye glimmering in amusement. "that's so sweet! come here!" you reach out to pinch his cheeks, cooing how your omi is the sweetest and kindest person there is and that people would know that more if you stop looking so grumpy, you idiot.he feels his ears flush and he pushes you — nudges, really — to the side, grumbling something about ungrateful spoiled brats. but he can't bring himself to actually chide you for it, not when you're high in spirits right now and he knows how the littlest things could set you off. he wants you happy for as long as your period lets you which isn't long; fickle as your moods are at these times. "alright, alright." he chuckles. "go freshen up and let's get some real food in you first before we eat the sweets," he stands up from his kneeling position on the floor, hand on your arm to pull you up, grunting as he does so. you groan as if remembering why he was here in the first place. you flop helplessly on the bed, boneless, unwilling to leave the inviting warmth of the blankets. "nooo," you whine, purposely obnoxious just to irk him enough to let you go. "i know what you're doing." he tugs again. "it's not gonna work." it's a losing battle, one that you fought valiantly 'til the end. your whining doesn't work and only ends with you thrown over his shoulder. you yelp, thumping his back with your fists in protest as he makes his way through the living room where your dog sees you both and follows you to the bathroom.

kiyoomi gently puts you down, righting your crumpled shirt. he chuckles at the look you send him. to him, you look about as threatening as a baby chick but he rightfully stays quiet. not taking any chances with your knees so close to his crotch. "there are some pads in the cabinet that i bought," he pauses to fix your hair that got messy from being upside down. "it's the kind you always have." you grumble out a thanks, still a bit peeved from being carried out of bed. kiyoomi was right, of course — you do need to freshen up — but you can still give him trouble for it. you're bleeding out and you feel all weird, sue you, right? "while you're here, i'll go heat up the food i got you — it's korean, by the way — and feed snowball too then we can do whatever you want after. sound good?" kiyoomi tilts his head towards you to see your face.

you don't answer immediately, still stubbornly holding on to the frustration of being forcefully pulled out of bed. but just like most things are with kiyoomi, it's a losing battle. again.

it doesn't take you long before you drop the pretenses and meet his gaze. what you see makes the fight in you leave all in one go. his gaze is warm with mirth and... something else. you don't know what it is but it makes you feel shy being at the receiving end of it. you are suddenly conscious of how sloppy you must look right now even though you know kiyoomi would not mind. in your rising embarrassment, you usher kiyoomi out of the bathroom, eyes not meeting his. snowball, who's just so happy to be there, follows kiyoomi out the door. a muffled boof! sounding through the door once you get it shut. you get your wits together and freshen up, taking extra time to deal with the flush on your cheeks that just won't disappear. kiyoomi is taking out the last of the food from the microwave as you come out of the bathroom, livelier now that you've washed your face. he greets you with a smile and calls you to the dining table. lunch is far calmer, a nice change of pace after the hectic ordeal of getting you out of bed. the strange shyness from earlier is forgotten temporarily as you both talk about nothing and everything; how volleyball practice went, how his courses are going, about the new show you wanted to watch with him. once you start feeling the cramps come up again, kiyoomi catches the change in your expression and decides it's time to go back to bed. he hands you the pill you take to treat the cramps and a glass of water. you give him a grateful smile and he ruffles your hair in return.

"go back to bed. i'll be there in a sec," he says, no room for argument. you feel a bit guilty not helping with the cleanup and you tell him as much. he only snorts and tells you it's fine and that it's what i'm here for.

it doesn't do much to abate your guilt but with the cramps only getting worse, there's not much of a choice to be made.

when kiyoomi comes back, he sees you curled up under the covers, eyes shut in pain. he grabs the rechargeable heating pad from across the room and nudges your hand with it. it's only then that you open your eyes.

"hi," you mutter, attempting to smile. "the medicine hasn't kicked in yet." you grab the offered heating pad. "hey, guess we're not watching that show then?" kiyoomi murmurs, knowing full well that you would want to sleep the ache away. you give him an apologetic smile which he only waves off. "i really wanted to watch it too," you mourn. "it's fine. we can watch it another time." he smiles kindly. the silence that follows is somewhat cautious, neither one sure where to go from here. usually, you would have invited kiyoomi into bed by now and he would groan his protest before reluctantly joining you, all the while you would be teasing him about it. but the shyness from before overtakes you and kiyoomi is unusually hesitant as well, eyes darting and feet shuffling in place.

he is the first to break the silence. "i'll head to the living room so you can sleep, okay?" he begins turning away from you. at his words, you hastily sit up. "omi," you call out. he looks to you, head tilted to let you know he's listening. you can barely hold eye contact as the next words stumble through your lips. "um, the-the heating pad falls off when i sleep on my side and, and you know how i can't sleep on my back because the bleeding would leak," you look away from his gaze. "do you... do you mind helping me?"

kiyoomi turns around, regarding you curiously. "and what do you want me to do?" knowing that words will fail you, you silently flip the covers and pat the space beside you. kiyoomi exhales and cautiously takes his spot on the bed, as if this is the first time he's done this. it makes you snort; your shyness and his hesitance, it's ridiculous. and yet you're unable to soothe your increasing heartbeat.

"and then?" kiyoomi asks, quietly.

shaking off the anxiety that's starting to take hold of you, you nudge his shoulder, urging him to lie down beside you. you turn your back towards him, reaching for his hand and slowly guiding it down to lay flat on the heating pad pressing to your lower abdomen. you swear you hear the sharp intake of breath over your shoulder; whether from the temperature of the heating pad or the action itself, you don't know.

kiyoomi is quick on the uptake and lays his palm fully on the pad. it takes you by surprise when he pulls you towards his chest that you can't help the little gasp you let out. "like this?" he asks, almost teasingly. the hesitance from before melting away from his tone. unfortunately for you, it does menacing things to your heart.

with your heart seizing in your chest, you hum your affirmative and relax in his hold. kiyoomi pulls up the covers on both of you and adjusts so that your head rests on his other arm. with the soft thump-thump of his heartbeat combined with the warmth from the heating pad and his body, you are slowly lulled to sleep. "we should talk about this, you know?" you hear just as you are on the brink of sleep and you only hum in response. you hear him chuckle, or rather feel the vibrations of it. And then lastly, a kiss to your hair. "another time then."

what comes after will be dealt with another time. for now, you will enjoy each other's warmth.

i wrote this on a whim because im currently bleeding out and everything hurts so bad and i wish i had an omi to take care of me ;;;;; I've got a more planned out fic that i can't wait to get out there i swear ;;;; pls take this crappy peace offering for now

#sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa fluff #sakusa x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu headcanons #hq!! #hq fluff #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x self-insert #sakusa x y/n #sakusa imagines #sakusa x you #sakusa x self-insert #san's omi brainrot #haikyuu x you #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #sakusa oneshot #san's blobs #i can't believe this is my first work in 2 years im so sorry;;;; #this is all i can offer you #2k words of nothing #sakusa kiyoomi x reader

[cherry-leclerc]

i hate you. i hate you? ☆ cs55

genre: humor, fluff, love confessions, childhood friends to enemies/rivals to lovers (damn, tongue twister), maybe a bit angsty (don't worry too much about it though, lol), flashbacks that add to a tiny slow-burn

word count: 3.5k

The dwindling friendship that comes crashing down when you get offered the opportunity of a lifetime. Leading to a bumpy road with your best friend.

req!... i swear that when i put angst ITS NOT BAD. anyways, enjoy, anons!

Me encantaría formar parte del equipo, you muse whimsically, pigtails flying against the winter breeze. Sería un sueño hecho realidad. 

Despite being young, you knew you were different— came from a divergent background compared to those around you. Your family definitely didn’t have the resources to fulfill your dream to kart or race professionally. You partially blame your brothers for getting you into the sport. 

Si. Lo sería, a particular Spaniard, agrees. You smile. Your parents share a pitiful glance before sitting you down. It wasn’t going to happen, not because they didn’t want to but simply because they couldn’t afford such an expensive hobby that would probably kick you in the butt. 

That’s where your first guardian angel appeared. Carlos Sainz Sr. Better known as your best friend's father. Without a doubt, he offers to sponsor you, for he grew keen on having you around, enjoying time by the pool with his two girls and shy son. 

Was there a way you could ever thank him? No, not really— nothing would ever cover all he’s ever done for you, but you’d make sure to try your best to find a way. Even if it took you a lifetime. 

-

“You’ve known her for a lifetime! Probably five, for all we know!” Lando yelps, running a hand through his curls. “You can’t just call it quits on your friendship just like…” He snaps his fingers. 

Carlos shrugs. He fills up a styrofoam cup of coffee, silently offering one to his moody friend. The Brit rolls his colorful eyes. You’re making a mistake, he presses. It’s the Spaniards turn to grow serious. 

“Por favor—she should have thought about that before she stole my seat.”

That, you did. It wasn’t an easy decision to make. It could have never been, even if you had been warned. But suddenly you were getting an opportunity, the kind you only ever dreamt of. Carlos would be fine, he was a man who would eventually have a pile of teams interested in keeping him around. You, on the other hand, were surprised that anyone was even intrigued in having you form a part of their F1 team, much less— Ferrari. 

This was it, and you had to grab at the opportunity. You just never imagined losing a friend along the way.

Why would you even consider accepting? You flinch and he’s looking as if he regrets it, so you give him the benefit of the doubt. 

I know this isn’t what we were expecting, but think of it this way. I'd be coming in 2025 and you would already be too busy preparing to join Audi! It’ll work out. You’re still doing that, right? You knew he was, he had been so excited and told you as soon as he found out. Audi was in his blood.

He runs a large hand through his tangled hair, sighing. Still. You have to say no. You can’t do that to me. It’d be embarrassing.

Your shoulders drop an inch. Why? Because you’re being bought out or because a woman is keeping your seat? His silence is enough for your heart to break and for your mind to be made up.

I’m signing. 

-

There is indignation, and then there is you.

“You are such a—argh!” Pounding your fists against the locked door, you reach out to briskly twist the knob, trying your best to get out of the cramped room. The world was spinning, and you could feel a migraine rolling in strongly, but you swore—swore—you would kill him as soon as you got your hands on him. 

The morning had started off fairly simple. Show up, run a few tests on the stimulator, get to know a few of the mechanics you’d be working with, and finally, sign your contract. You had waited longer than intended, due to minor changes you had suggested, so you were extremely ready to get it done. This was supposed to be your day.

That is until the grumpy Spaniard pushed you, locked you in, and ran off before you had a chance to register what was going on. Fred had been adamant—show up on time. The next time he would be available would not be until three weeks, and that was ridiculously long if anyone were to ask. Carlos knew that.

Charles hums slowly, munching on a pack of M&M's when he hears the spine-chilling scream you let out, wood vibrating as you punch angrily. Hurrying over, he unlocks it from the outside, surprised by your appearance. Your hair is tussled, face is blotchy, vein throbbing. It’s definitely a sight to say the least. He mentions something about —he went that way— and —think about what you’re going to do— but you’re off before you settle with any of it.

The twists and turns make your head hurt, practically seeing red before you come to a halt. Smiling sophisticatedly, Carlos is sat, legs crossed, fingers pointing to his watch. No. “News for you, my dear friend; Fred just left.” The Spaniard winces playfully, already making his way out the door. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Charles was right. You should have thought about what you would do. Jumping onto his large back, your flimsy hands dig into the forest he calls hair, and pull. He screeches, swaying from side to side as he hurriedly tries to disconnect your legs from around his waist. Let go, he groans harder when you pinch his arm. 

“Why? Why did you do this—any of this?” At this point you’re kicking and screaming, panting, heaving. “Is it really that difficult to accept it? You lost. I’m in, you’re out.”

“At least we know she’s a fighter.”

Coming to a sudden stop, your eyes flicker to the familiar voice, instantly burning up. Fred taps his foot gingerly against the white tiles, an amused Monegasque standing right behind him. Jumping off of the sulky brunette, you begin to shake your head in disbelief, pointing towards the exit. “N-no…you’re supposed to be gone. He…” Then it hits you. This was a fucking set up.

“While I’m evenly impressed by your toughness, I will say, I think we should put a hold on signing.” Your stomach drops. The older man quickly waves his hands in dismissal, grinning apologetically. “We still want you! Nothing has changed, but I think it’s for the best that you fix things with Carlos before doing so. It’ll be good for you two.” With that, he bows his head, and strolls away, heading for the airport.

“I’m out too,” Charles whispered, slowly stepping back. “Fill me in on what happens, though!” 

As soon as your breath evens out—and Carlos creates a safe distance between you two—you let out a deranged chuckle. He almost cringes at the cold sound, but keeps his chin up high. “You did this all on purpose?” It’s a question but comes out more like a confirmation, which in a way, it was. Shutting your eyes, you tilt your head with a ghostly smile. “You knew he hadn’t left and let me make a fool out of myself. Why would you do that?” you grit, orbs laser focused on him as if you could light him up into flames if you really set your mind to it.  

“Why would I not?” he stubbornly spits back.

“You asshole, I’m just trying to make your dad proud.”

A pinch of guilt dives deep into his veins as he watches you stomp down the hallway, mindlessly tugging at his heart.

-

I say we let him burn, Ana pitches the idea, laying flat on her bed as you scoff with a knowing smile. 

Does it make me a bad person if I don’t disagree with you? 

She sits up, eyeing where you calmly paint down on a canvas. She squints her eyes. “What even is that?” Holding your art with pride, you shoot a sheepish smile. Nice, huh? The Spaniard’s youngest sister giggles, nose scrunching up at the dark sight. “I’m confused—is he supposed to look like that?”

You curl an analytical brow, shooting a quick snarl. “I think it’s pretty good. And yes. He’s supposed to be getting run over by my future car. What a sight.” You dramatically swoon.

Ana drops her stare, focusing instead with a teasing curl gripping the corner of her lips. “Remember when instead of plotting his death, you’d be fantasizing about a life with him? God, I could still remember all the hearts—the glitter.” She shudders, faintly recalling the mess in her room, which led to Reyes giving you both a good scolding, but not before winking at a red-faced you. 

Looking away feverishly, you shake your head, picking up the flimsy paint brush once again, never once bothering to make eye contact with her. “I was young. Stupid as shit. I can’t even remember what I loved about him.”

“Liked,” she corrects you.

You cough. “Right. Liked.”

-

If the Spaniard took the time to sit down, roll through a philosophical journey, wonder where things might have changed for him—it would have saved him enduring a puddle of dreadfulness at this very moment.

Ana’s wedding. The first of his sisters who would get married. It was a bittersweet day, and not just because she was finally leaving the family nest. “Who is she…” he can hear himself ask. Almost demand. The brunette smirks, slightly pleased. 

“My best friend. You’re nemesis,” she jokes. 

Carlos growls slowly, lightly pinching her cheek as she yelps. “With. You know what I mean.”

“Lalo. She met him a few weeks ago. Very nice guy.” A beat. “Please don’t ruin my wedding.”

But he’s not even listening. Brown eyes follow to where you stand straight, arms crossed over your body like a shield. He always knew you’d been self-conscious, but never understood why. You were stunning. Lavender dress hugs your curves beautifully. A trace of honey fills any area you fall into. Your hair is nicely pinned up, allowing him to enjoy your silky skin. 

And it seems like Lalo too.

Rubbing a large hand against his smooth jaw—which was only neat since Reyes had hounded him to fix his appearance for his sister’s big day—he smoothly made his way over. Rupert warns the Spanirad with his eyes, but Carlos scoffs. Did everyone think he had something up his sleeve? 

“Enjoying yourselves?”

Mid-sip, your face freezes, doe-eyes flickering between Lalo, then Carlos. Then Carlos, then Lalo. God, when did the room begin to boil? Your voice gets caught in your throat, to make matters worse. Carlos’ personal trainer pity’s you for a split second, deciding to help out. “The drinks are stellar, mate. We’ve been hogging the bar for so long at this point.”

The brown eyed boy studies your so-called date, faking a cold smile. “You don’t say…Carlos, by the way,” he says, extending his arm out. “Remind me of your name again, sorry, she’s just never mentioned you before. At all, really. I apologize.”

“That’s okay, we only just met a few weeks ago. We’re taking it slow.” We’re. The word itself makes the 29 year old fear he might puke right then and there. “Eduardo, but you can call me Lalo. Huge fan.”

“Mines or hers?” Carlos bitterly questions, thick lips forming a straight line. Lalo awkwardly clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth, pulling away and leaning in to hold you close. 

“Guess it’s my turn to apologize now. Hers. Always. But you’re pretty cool, too, I suppose.” His voice is light, unbothered. It makes Carlos tick furiously, though he doesn’t dare show it. You can’t pinpoint the moment tension rose up, snapping you out of your trance. Blinking hastily, you aim a sour snarl at the Spaniard. 

“We were sort of having a good time, so…” You shoo him away with a jeweled hand. “I just don’t want to kill the vibes. You understand, right?” Barely giving him a chance to respond, you turn back to your conversation, leaving Lalo and Rupert to appear puzzled, but stupidly playing along.

With a raw click of the tongue, the 29 year old takes a step forward, leveling down to your ear. “Pretend all you want, but you’re still wearing my initials around that pretty wrist of yours.” And walks away.

It was true. Your parents had gifted you a lucky charm bracelet for your fourteenth birthday, and Carlos greedily beat everyone to it. A car, for your love for Formula One. A chili, a shy thank you for his nickname. An ice cream, well, because you just loved ice cream. And a cursive CS. For him. 

Watching him walk away left you with a hole in your heart. You did not need a reminder like that on a day like this. Wearing it was purely out of habit, it had no meaning to it anymore. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself. The need to use the restroom was a complete lie as you wordlessly peek for the broad Spaniard. You spot his glossy shoes first, sticking out the photo booth. 

“Scoot,” you say, gently cramming him in deeper. Once you get situated, you slide the silver charm off, handing it over to him. “Here.”

He furrows his dark brows. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t want anything tying me back to you anymore. It was kind—sweet—but that was past you. You’re cruel, mean, rude, a fucking jerk now. I don’t like that, so— here.”

“I don’t want it,” he retorts, curling your flat hand into a fist, forcing you to hold it tight. 

“Well I don’t either, so what is there to do? You know what; I’ll just sell it. It’s not even that significant,” you mumble, already making your way out, but not before he hauls you back. Falling straight onto his thigh. You can feel your pulse quicken, your cheeks tingle, and your eyes suddenly burn. “Let me go,” you squeal, trying your best to weasel out of his grip. He groans, placing a large hand on either side of your hips, pushing you down.

“No. Just listen to me first.” Sighing, you nod. You should be climbing off; there’s room for two. He should be pushing you off; there’s room for two. But none of that happens as he clears his throat, rehearsing his words over and over before you raise a neat brow, waiting for him. “Perdón. Por todo.” 

Not what you were expecting and he could tell when you let out a small gasp. Nervously, he licks his lips, admiring your plump ones that don’t lay too far off from his own. “I used to be so proud of you when we were just kids. When you first admitted you wanted to race too. It was adorable, the way your eyes lit up.” Your breath deepens, unknowing of what this was leading to. “But I’ve always been proud. That’s never changed.”

“You’re a terrific liar,” you timidly chuckle, patting his shoulder, making him back off a little. But he only ricochets forward, twice as close. Your insides churn. 

“You don’t know how fucking happy I was when you got a seat. Over the moon. But I won’t lie; I was hurt and said some shitty things that have no excuse tied to them. I know I hurt you—I know that now. But that feeling vanished when worry came creeping in. I don’t want you to sign that contract.”

You flinch, reality crashing down on you once again as you examine the Ferrari driver. “Why apologize if you haven’t changed? My feelings aren’t a joke,” you whimper pathetically, tears sliding down your cheeks, soft brows drawn together. 

He panics, gingerly brushing them away to the best of his ability and you don’t have the power to fight him off anymore. You’re too busy getting your heart broken once again by the same man. 

She’s beautiful. Insanely—it’s insane. Her eyes are a shade of green I’d never thought I’d like.

I once wore a shade of green shorts last summer and you called them ugly. Said it looked like vomit. 

Carlos sighs dreamily, dominantly shaking his head. 

Well crap. I must’ve changed my mind.

Present him, was taking in your frantic sobs and he doesn’t know how else to calm you if it's not by rubbing your back gently. It takes a while, but you eventually ease up, occasionally letting out a shaky breath. “First of all, let me tell you why I did everything within me for you not to sign. It’s no good.”

You tilt your head in confusion, nose runny as he hands you his handkerchief. “I-I’m confused.”

Carlos chuckles. “What was the one thing I would always complain to you about when I was away racing?” Lack of privacy? “Okay, second thing I raved about…” When you don’t answer, he sheepishly wiggles his brows. “How tired I was with my team. It’s exhausting because like it or not—we’re not at our prime. I don’t think we will be for a couple of years. But for my benefit, I’ll be gone, and then it’s only going to fall on-”

“Me,” you finish, glossy eyes dancing through his painful expression.

 He nods. “Listen, Charles will be fine. Mentally not, but he’ll do just okay. It’s you I’m worried about. Not only will you dive in, nose first into a world of ruthless men, but you’ll always be the entire blame. In their eyes, it'll be you. What did you do wrong? How could you fuck up? And sure, you might sometimes—it's inevitable— but other times you won’t. But you’re a girl, and that’s enough for the fingers to be pointed at you.”

Shaking your head profusely, you instantly reach up to catch your hair from falling from its tiring up-do. He helps you out, combing his fingers nicely, though this time it doesn’t get rid of the queasy feeling. He was right. God, why did he have to be right? 

“I’m well aware of what I’m about to get myself into. But I think I can handle it. I can’t not do it—imagine how many girls it would help pave the way for? I’m sure as fuck it won’t be easy, and it might threaten my sanity, but I need to do this. And I’m sorry.”

An unfamiliar wave crashes against his warm eyes, a low breath being expanded into the air. You can feel it, taste it. Mint mojito. Your body told you, you liked it, with the way you wanted to lean in and kiss him—just to confirm. Pursing your lips, you continue. “You have your future decided and I have mine.”

With a hesitant bow, and a tide of curls flying forward, he clears his throat. “You’ve always been this way. Dedicated. And I could never decipher why. Until now.” He can’t help but brush his nose against yours. Your eyes flutter shut, allowing him to appreciate your pretty features. “If you’re sure, then I’m right behind you.”

You almost want to laugh, but are too scared to ruin the moment, so instead count his freckles. “I am…” A sharp inhale. “But what’s the second thing?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said ‘first of all’. I would assume there’s more…” You know there is, but you just want to hear him say it aloud. You’d seen the way he glared viciously at Lalo, chest firming. You’d seen the way things had shifted between you two, months prior, after his break up.

If this racing thing doesn’t work out, you would make a killer artist. He whistles.

Down boy, you joke. It’s just a swan. I resonate with them. 

He sits up straighter. Then consider me a swan, too.

You laugh loudly, tossing your head back as he smiles. Why all of a sudden?

Just.

“It took me a while to get here, but I’m here.” He cradles your delicate face. “I think I love you. I-I mean I know I love you. Your stubbornness, your compliance. Your level-headedness, your intrusive actions. Your need to persevere and be better—even if others make it hard on you.” You giggle, poking his chest. “But above all, I love the way you made me work for it. I’m glad you did because how else could I have realized if you didn’t drag that dead-beat?”

“Hey! He’s nice!”

The 29 year old tsks. “Nice isn’t enough and you know it.” His pink lips graze over yours as you lean in too. “You’ve always been a smart girl…” He’s about to kiss you when you slide back, leaving him hanging. He clenches his jaw, seeming teased. 

“I love swans because I know I can love as deep as one.” 

“I can too.”

“And I know, you know, that I love you too.”

“I do know that.”

“And I lit you up on fire, but only on paper!”

His brows furrow. “Yeah, we can circle back to that. But I don’t care. I love all that about you. And I want you to know my father has always been proud of you.” He winks. “But never as much as me.”

“We’re doing this then?” you ask nervously. “Y-you’re still going to have to grovel. I don’t give up that easily. Especially after all you’ve put me through.”

Carlos gently nods, eyes adoring you. “I’ve waited more than a decade for this moment. What’s one more?”

And he kisses you.

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